Halo: The Return Home Declassified
by Auralee
Summary: A collection of random ideas and chapters that didn't fit into 'Return Home' for whatever reason. Companion to 'Return Home'. Be warned: there will be some OOC, cheese, flashbacks, and some plain silliness. Don't like, don't read. T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: Stilettos

Greetings to all my fans and faithful readers! I know I said that the "BLADE Chronicles" (as I've come to call them) were done--but this isn't a new story. :D As before, here's a collection of assorted ideas and random outtakes that never made it into the story for whatever reason (OOC, non-canon, just plain silly, etc). If it's not you're cup of tea, feel free to wander elsewhere and let the rest of us read. Flames will be used to roast hot dogs, and accusations of Mary-Sue will be completely disregarded. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 1: Stilettos**

"Are you sure we have to go to this blasted party?" Laura groused, grabbing various sets of undergarments from around the room and cramming them into an open duffel bag—for a soldier, she was amazingly sloppy and disorganized.

"First off, this isn't exactly a party—it's a diplomatic gathering," John reminded her.

"We have to dress up and mingle—it's a party," she fired back, throwing a wadded-up pair of socks at him, which he easily dodged. "Which means I have to actually look half-way decent for once."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Fred joined in, grinning. "Just wear a dress uniform and let your hair down a bit."

Laura sent him an ugly look as she pulled a dusty, rarely-used crate out from under her bunk. They were supposed to head up to the _Cairo_ and mingle during a small reception being thrown by the UNSC brass: it was commemorating the signing of the new treaty between the Sangheili and the UNSC, and the brass wanted the surviving SPARTAN-IIs present. _Probably for a press release_, she thought darkly.

"I'll tell you one thing, I am _not_ going unarmed to this party," she spat as she threw open the crate and sneezed from the resulting dust cloud: a black wool uniform with a pair of embroidered silver knives on the right breast lay within. Removing the uniform and placing it into the open duffel bag along with some toiletries, Laura moved to a nearby dresser and began rummaging through the top drawer, pausing long enough to toss her brush in the bag.

"They'll never let you get away with it, you know that," Kelly pointed out.

"Oh, we'll see. Ah-HA!" Laura shouted in triumph as she pulled a wrapped leather bundle from the drawer, a grin on her face. Slamming the drawer shut, she carefully placed the package in the bag, where it made a soft clinking noise.

"What…?" John began. Laura simply smiled, tucking a small knife into the folds of black cloth.

"Insurance. You really expect me to just waltz in unarmed for a bunch of inept diplomats? One assassin could easily take out the entire bunch." Zipping the duffel bag shut, she stood up and added it to the small pile near the door.

"Just hope you don't get caught," Fred muttered.

"I won't if you don't tell, but since you don't know what else I have, we're set," Laura smiled.

--------

"Laugh and you die," Laura muttered as she fastened the collar of her dress uniform. The black wool was noticeably devoid of medals, unlike the Spartans' uniforms, but the embroidered silver knives flashed and gleamed. She added a small pin to the collar for decoration: an eagle in flight.

"Not too bad—though your hair's longer than regulation," John grinned. Laura rolled her eyes and pecked him lightly on the cheek, to the amusement of the other Spartans—she knew that doing anything remotely romantic to him in public embarrassed him no end, which made for the perfect payback.

"You could do with a little less color, you know—I don't think bright red is regulation uniform," she snickered as she watched John's face flush. Long strides carried her to the window, which held enough of a reflection for her to work with her hair. Laura ran a brush through the waist-length brown waves until she was satisfied that it was as tangle-free as it was going to get, then began twisting the hair near her ears. Practiced fingers wove a pair of brown braids around the edges of her head, which eventually joined together in one long braid behind her head. The rest of it hung freely, but the overall effect was one of practicality and elegance.

"Nice," Kelly whistled in appreciation, while Fred grinned. "You'll have a hard time keeping the guys off you."

"Shows what you know," Laura shot back. _Now for the fun part_, she thought in amusement. The small knife she'd slipped in her bag had been confiscated during a weapons search (as she'd expected), but they'd missed a few things—like the leather bundle she was currently untying. One flick of her wrist caused the leather to unroll, and she smiled at the surprised looks on her friends' faces.

"_Hairpins_?" Kelly cried. Nearby, Fred and Linda stared openmouthed, and even John looked shocked.

"If you say so," Laura smiled as she looked through the inventory. She knew they weren't hairpins—the blades were too long and thick for that—but she'd let them speculate for now. They were all in pairs: elaborately worked butterflies, flowers, Celtic designs, even a pair designed with hair combs on the end. It was this last pair that Laura pulled from the leather ties and slid carefully into the braids in her hair. _Good, they slide in easily, let's hope they come out as easily_. She took special care that the ends of the "combs" weren't caught in the dark braids, or in any of the hair around her scalp.

"Trust me, these are for more than just decoration," she assured them as she began rolling up the bundle. "Besides, they were a gift from my father." As an afterthought, she stopped and removed two with a Celtic wreath adorning the ends and slid them into her uniform sleeves, arranging the ends carefully: unless you knew what they were you could easily mistake them for cuff links.

"Knives?" Fred asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," she smiled, considering one with a butterfly adornment for her braid. _Nah, that'd be too much, it'd give me away,_ she decided, rolling the leather back up and stowing it away. "Showtime."

--------

Laura frowned from the corner where she'd stationed herself, feeling uneasy about the whole scenario. There were simply too many potential targets, and as many potential assassins, contained in the room. _Disaster waiting to happen_, she mused,_ that and the fact that security here's too lax_.

"You are not enjoying yourself," a Sangheili diplomat approached. Knowing the warrior tendencies of this race, she found it amusing that they even had diplomats.

"I am…unused to diplomacy," she answered in his own tongue, choosing her words carefully. "Diplomacy and politics are sickening to me, I much prefer direct action and plain speech."

The diplomat rumbled and clicked his mandibles in what Laura recognized as the Sangheili equivalent of a chuckle. "Well said, human. You are not what I expected."

"And what did you expect of me, honor?" she asked, adding the honorific out of respect.

"Arrogance, mostly, and suspicion," he replied. "Your race seems to have forgotten that the war is long over."

"We as a race almost died, and we had not asked for a fight. But the Prophets you followed deemed us a threat, simply because of a Forerunner artifact that knew the truth." Laura had learned the real reason behind the start of the war from one of the other diplomats earlier: the Prophets had learned from a Forerunner artificial intelligence that humanity was heir to their legacy.

"We were blinded, and we regret our foolishness," the Sangheili began, but Laura stopped him.

"I know, and I understand all too well," she interrupted. "Unfortunately, not everyone is as understanding. It will take time, but they will learn."

A commotion on the other side of the room startled them both, and Laura's head snapped up in full alert. A group of twelve humans had broken into the room, brandishing weapons and holding the entire room at gunpoint. "Rebels," she muttered softly in the Sangheili tongue, and the ones nearby growled threateningly.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" one of the admirals shouted.

"We heard about this farce of a negotiation," the lead attacker sneered, "and decided to intervene. Imperial Earth never negotiates, they simply take and take, everything from rights to worlds."

Laura scowled and began moving slowly, trying hard not to draw attention; no easy feat when you considered she was about seven feet tall, but somehow she managed it. Sliding her "hairpins" out of her braids, she waited for her moment to strike.

"We have never simply taken anything," the admiral pointed out. "As for rights, we have never denied any freedoms or rights to a UNSC citizen without need."

"Liar!" The leader yelled, pointing his rifle at the admiral; Laura decided she'd waited long enough. Darting forward, she flicked her wrists, sending the two hairpins straight for their throats. _Protect first, subdue later_, was the only thing going through her mind as she watched them sink home, buried at least five inches in their throats. Quicker than the eye could see, her "cuff links" went flying into two more throats before she ran headlong and tackled a fifth; in the corners of her eyes she saw numerous people and Sangheili doing the same.

"Sit down, dirtbag," she growled as she laid a right cross to the rebel's face. He went out like a light, and she sat on him just to make sure he didn't get up. Around her the remaining seven attackers were being hauled and held by humans and Sangheili alike, and she grinned.

"Yay, our races are finally doing something constructive together," Laura deadpanned.

"Ever the smartass?" Kelly snickered.

"You know it," she replied. Once she was sure the rebel under her butt wasn't going to get up anytime soon, Laura stood up and retrieved the four projectiles she'd thrown, grimacing as the blood dripped off the ends. "These'll need a lot of cleaning, but it'll be worth it."

"What are those?" another admiral asked. "And how did you get them in here past the weapons checks?"

"For one, the security detail you have sucks," Laura replied—she'd decided to dispense with protocol and politics. "As evidenced by the fact that twelve armed rebels managed to make it in here. For another, these look so much like hairpins that your people were easily fooled."

"But what _are_ they?" Kelly pressed. Laura grinned, trying hard not to laugh.

"Stilettos. Renaissance nobles, mostly Italians, kept these daggers and concealed poisons on their person just in case. They were the weapon of choice for the nobility." Laura chuckled, and added with a smile, "They also make really good decorations in a pinch."


	2. Chapter 2: Therapy

Hey to all my readers! I'm trying to pace myself with these updates, but I just can't help it! At any rate, this one was inspired by various stories of Therapy Dogs (and other animals). I figured I'd try and include it in "Return Home" , but never got it finished (tear). Hopefully I got the part about the grooming tools right. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 2: Therapy**

Laura smiled as she motioned to the younger Spartan behind her; the young girl had a curious look on her face.

"Don't worry, Lucy-Lu, it's not like I'm taking you into a war zone. Fred would kill me if I did, or at least attempt to." Lucy smiled and tapped her head, which Laura assumed meant "I know". _No child should have to see what she has—and here I thought I had it bad._ The minute she'd learned of Lucy's exact association with the SPARTAN-III project, Laura had done some hacking in ONI's networks; when she saw the history on the project, it had taken all her self-control to not launch a nasty virus in the networks. Small wonder that the girl couldn't speak—Laura had had first-hand experience with a similar trauma, though she never spoke of it if she could help it. The biggest thing that had helped her was some therapy that her mother's coworkers had suggested, and Laura hoped it would do some good for Lucy too.

The two women rounded a bend and stopped when they saw a small farmhouse not too far away; Laura smiled, knowing exactly where they were going.

"Ryder Farms, I spent a lot of time there growing up. They raise Thoroughbred horses, and from time to time I lend a hand with the chores. They're really friendly, just don't be surprised when the dog runs up."

Lucy tipped her head to the side, as if she were asking a question. But before Laura could answer, a large black and tan dog bounded up; she moved forward and knelt in one smooth motion.

"Hey, Chip, long time no see," she crooned as she wrapped her arms around the furry animal. "You're looking gorgeous, yes you are." The dog placed his paws on her shoulders and licked her face, clearly enjoying the attention. Laura rubbed his ears and smiled, motioning for Lucy to come closer.

"This is Chip, he lives on the farm with the horses. He's really friendly, your biggest worry is a wet face." Lucy moved closer and cautiously pet the big dog; Chip's tail thumped against her legs, and Laura saw the beginnings of a smile.

"See? He's just a big ol' softie. Mrs. Ryder says his favorite thing to do is sleep in front of the fireplace. Come on, I'll show you the rest of the place."

She stood up, wiping her face with one sleeve, and strode confidently towards the barn; as they walked Lucy saw lots of horses grazing and moving around in their pastures. A few came closer to the fence, poking inquisitive heads over the wooden railings; warm brown eyes watched them curiously, and somewhat warily, she noticed.

"Laura! Haven't seen you in a while. What've you been up to?" A cheery voice called from the barn, followed by an older woman. She looked to be in her late sixties, but her movements were those of someone who was much younger.

"Oh, the usual, causing trouble and all. Glad to see you and the horses are still ok. You've recovered well from all the trouble we had a while back."

"You were a big help, working with the horses. If it wasn't for you we would never have saved as many as we did—how did you know we'd be attacked?"

"It was only a matter of time, Mrs. Ryder—I figured I should at least save as much as I could. Good thing Dad taught me to plan things in advance." A sad look flickered in Laura's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by her usual mischievous twinkle.

"Anyway, I brought someone along with me, so she can meet the horses. This is Lucy." Lucy inclined her head and tried to smile. "She doesn't talk much, but she's very bright."

"Well hi there! Don't you worry, Laura's good with these horses, they all know her and trust her. You're in good hands on this farm, and any friend of Laura's is more than welcome here." Laura smiled and thanked Mrs. Ryder, then led Lucy to one of the stables.

"She's friendly to just about everyone, people are like that out here. Now let's start showing you around." Most of the stalls were empty, but one at the very back of the barn held a very pregnant mare; Laura smiled and whistled kindly.

"Heya Cissy! Still waiting on the little one?" The mare blew noisily and put her head over the stall door; Laura rubbed her nose and stroked her broad neck.

"Lucy, meet Cicero's Legacy, but everyone calls her Cissy. She's pregnant and due to foal any day now, but she's still a sweetheart. Come say hello." Lucy moved forward and placed a hand on the mare's nose.

"Go ahead and pet her, gently does it. Horses love attention, and as long as you're gentle they'll love you to death. Once I got my augmentations it took me a long time to figure it out, but you're a bit quicker on the uptake than I am." Gently she took the younger Spartan's hand and guided it along the mare's nose and neck, watching as the girl's face lit up.

"Pretty…" she whispered, voice hoarse from years of disuse. Laura smiled, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. _It's a start. After all this time, it's a definite start._

"Yes, very pretty," she answered, trying to keep her voice controlled. "She'll be even prettier once she's foaled, but horses are gorgeous anyways. Although right now I think Cissy needs a good grooming." Smiling broadly, Laura led Lucy to the tack room, where she proceeded to teach Lucy how to groom the pregnant mare.

"The key here is to be gentle, and to remember to be gentle—it's easy to get carried away here. We start with the currycomb—" she held up a round brush with rubbery bristles—"and move that around in circles to pull dead hair off. We use this—" here Laura held up what looked like a metal stirrup with metal teeth on each edge—"to clean off the currycomb when it gets too full. The straight brush and rag are to smooth down the coat with, and the hoof pick—" and she held up an oddly pointed metal instrument—"to clear out the dirt in her feet. Simple enough to remember, but practice makes perfect." Loading the aforementioned items in a box, Laura and Lucy returned to the mare's stall, where she showed Lucy how to groom the mare. By the time they were finished, Cissy's dark mahogany coat gleamed.

"Isn't she gorgeous now?" Laura whispered.

"Very pretty," Lucy answered, and Laura had to blink away the tears gathering in her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3: Rescue

Welcome back to all my faithful readers (that includes you, vrbtny :D)! I think I jumped the gun on posting, but I can't help it--good things never stay hidden for long (then again I might be slightly biased). Now this third part I know is an impossible occurrence, but it wedged itself into my brain while listening to Dragonforce and refused to leave, so here it is. Flames will be used to grill burgers and bratwurst.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 3: Rescue**

She heard the alarms even from this distance, and came alert in the saddle. The mare's ears also pricked forward, a signal that she herself was curious.

"Something's not right," Laura muttered before leaning down to whisper in the chestnut ears. "Looks like you'll be getting more of a workout than we planned for today, Willow." The mare tossed her head eagerly, and Laura spurred her into one of the fastest gallops she'd ever been through. **_(A/N __Laura's wearing a gravity harness she made just so she can ride again without hurting the horses--it's set just high (low?) enough for her to ride, but not fully powered._****_)_** Will-o'-the-wisp, the mare's registered name, had been bred for speed, and this was the first time she was going all out. Even as Laura marveled at the Thoroughbred's speed, her mind churned with possibilities of what might've gone wrong back at the base.

They were getting close, and she stopped Willow on a small hillock; from there she had a decent view of the base—and the crowd of people gathered not too far from her. She strained to catch the bits of conversation the wind blew her way.

"…in the armory, and we don't dare try to get them out…"

"…rebels must have had some inside help to get this close…"

"…Nothing we can do, Captain. I'm sorry."

"You're not even trying! What if it was your family…"

The last voice, loud and upset, came through clear and stopped her cold. It was her brother's voice, and when put together with the other comments the situation became clearer. Her base had fallen to a surprise attack, and there were hostages inside, her family. The UNSC couldn't do anything to help them without risking their deaths, and Matt was reacting in the typical relative-of-the-kidnapped fashion, forgetting UNSC hostage protocols and putting his family first.

A slow fury began building inside her, anger at those who dared try to harm her family. She let it build, but tempered it with icy resolve—if one walked the fine line between fire and ice one could do anything. _I'm Angel's only hope, and the twins. They need me._ Spurring Willow into a faster run, she headed closer to the small group in front of her, straight for her brother.

--------

The first hint they had of someone coming was the sound of hoofbeats, then John watched as a chestnut blur tore past, and a figure grabbed Captain Morisson and swung him up behind them. He was there for all of a few minutes when the blur slowed and resolved into a horse.

"She's here," he stated bluntly, at which point West, the other Spartans, and assorted other soldiers turned around. Watching as Matt Morisson was lowered to the ground, Laura nodded once and nudged the horse to a gallop.

"Laura!" Nathan Mitchell tossed his sidearm, and she caught it with ease even as she steered the horse to the treeline. It didn't take a genius to see where she was going.

"What the hell is she thinking?" Kelly muttered behind him. "She's got no chance." Surprisingly, Fred came to her rescue.

"She has a better chance than anyone else here. She knows that base like the back of her hand, and she's a Spartan. If she can't get them out, no one can."

--------

_"They're in the armory, under guard."_

_"I heard. You get loud when you're upset." She stopped by a row of parked Warthogs and lowered Matt to the ground. "Wait until all hell breaks loose, then grab a 'Hog and get to the back door—we're gonna need some help getting out of there."_

_"Laura, just get them back, please." She fixed her younger brother with a firm look just before she rode off._

_"I won't fail my blood."_

She was there sooner than she expected; now she needed the icy part of herself before the fire. If she were caught now…Laura dismounted and let Willow loose—the mare knew enough to hide until she whistled. Making sure she made no noise, she strapped the holster to her waist, drew the pistol, and headed for the back door she'd made as soon as the new camp had been set up. Laura pushed lightly on the chain-link fence, smiling a little as it moved soundlessly inward on invisible hinges; she slipped in and closed the door behind her. _They're in the armory,_ she remembered, leading with the sidearm Nathe had thrown to her. She slipped quietly in between buildings, no easy task in broad daylight, but years of having to slip away served her well now. Unfortunately, the guards around the armory were going to be a problem, one she couldn't tackle with stealth. Or could she?

She holstered the pistol and felt around her waist, silently drawing her knives. _Harm my blood, pay my price._ The first guard didn't even know what hit him—she granted him that mercy, at least. Two others followed suit, and she finally had a way in—an open window they'd carelessly left open. She slid it further open and climbed through, searching for her family.

Her ears caught a soft sound, almost inaudible but for her enhanced hearing—the sound of someone crying. Casting her head around, Laura finally got her bearings and bore down on the room, the room filled with grenades and other explosive implements. She guessed it was some kind of sickly perverse insurance policy, or maybe plain stupidity, that had made the rebels put them there. The door, of course, was always kept locked, but maybe they'd have shot the lock off? _No such luck_, she thought angrily when she pushed on the door and it didn't budge. The fact that the lock was intact was a bit worrisome in and of itself—it practically screamed 'inside job'. _Either they've had an operative in the camp for a long time now, or someone in the base turned traitor._

"Angel? KitKat? Alex?" she called softly.

"Aunt Laura?" she heard a boy's voice. Muffled footsteps came to the door.

"Get back from the door, quickly. This'll only take a bit." When she had given them a reasonable amount of time, she backed up and squeezed the trigger. Too late she realized the rebels might have booby-trapped the door, but her luck held and the door merely swung open. Angela and the twins rushed out, but she shook her head when they tried to hug her.

"No time, they probably know I'm here now. We have to go."

--------

"I don't believe it," Linda whispered as she peered through the scope. She watched as Laura exited the front of the building and broke the guard's neck, then motioned for the captives to hurry. The four ran through behind several buildings and towards the back door she'd seen her go through earlier.

"She got them out?" Captain Morisson had returned and was demanding answers.

"She won't get them any further away, not without help," a Helljumper nearby spat the words out, along with a wad of something John didn't care to contemplate. "That horse can only carry one person, and she's got three with her. Bitch has no chance."

Right as he finished saying that they heard the sound of a Warthog starting up—there had been a few out on field exercises, and once trouble had broken out their occupants had come as soon as they could to the field outpost. The 'Hog drove past them, with Matt Morisson fighting with the wheel and heading straight for the back door.

"Is he crazy?" Kelly shouted.

"No." John wished he'd gone with the captain. "Laura was talking to him earlier, remember? She's obviously got something planned, and he's part of it. She wouldn't put him at risk needlessly—family is everything to her."

--------

They'd made it to the back door, and Laura waited, remembering what she'd told her brother. _Wait until all hell breaks loose, then grab a 'Hog and get to the back door—we're gonna need some help getting out of there_. She heard the sound of the engine before she saw the 'Hog, and within seconds Matt had bounced to a stop.

"Daddy!" Katrina ran forward to hug her father, followed by Angela. He caught them roughly, but Laura broke up the reunion, much as she hated to do so.

"We can't stick around. They'll be here soon at this rate." Whistling once, she picked Katrina up and put her on Willow's back, then motioned for the rest of the family to get in the 'Hog. "Head for the field CP, and wait there."

"What about you?" Matt asked, and she gave him one long look; he stepped back at the barely leashed fury in her brown eyes.

"I have a score to settle," she replied as she slipped back into the base.

--------

Within five minutes the Warthog's engine could be heard, and John had to bite back a smile: Angela Morisson was struggling behind the wheel, her son Alex was hiding in the passenger seat, and Captain Morisson was behind the turret. Behind them was a familiar chestnut blur, but the woman seated there wasn't Blade. Katrina Morisson awkwardly stopped the horse and looked around. "Where's Aunt Laura?"

"What is she doing?" Fred asked, but Linda couldn't speak for sheer awe. Two flashbang grenades had gone off in the center of the camp, and once the rebels had regrouped Laura was standing visible on one of the roofs. With her long hair loose and blowing behind her, clad entirely in blue, she looked like some warrior of old. Even as she described the scene to the bystanders, Laura ran forward and dove off the roof, drew her knives in mid-jump, flipped once, and started kicking ass. Two rebels were taken out, she seized a gun from one of them and opened fire.

Matt Morisson placed one arm around his wife, who looked as pale as one of the Spartans and about to faint. Kelly shook her head, Fred scowled and John made a grab for an assault rifle.

"Master Chief, where are you going?" West's voice caused him to look up, but he didn't stop.

"She's angry, she's taking it out on the rebels, and if she's not careful she'll end up dead. She needs help, and that's what she's going to get." _I'm not letting her face this alone._ He headed to the 'Hog, followed by Fred and Kelly.

"Can't let you share all the fun, can we?" Fred quipped. Getting behind the wheel, with Kelly taking the turret behind him, he motioned John into the passenger seat. "Besides, I want to see for myself what Blade can do when she's pissed off."

--------

Shortly after the "rescue attempt", the evacuees returned to Camp Hayes, surprised at the amount of bodies. The three Spartans emerged from cover, guns still smoking, but relatively unscathed.

"Most of these bodies were here before we were, sir," Kelly volunteered, slightly off-balanced by the raw fury that had resulted in the bodies around them. Some had been shot, some had been slashed, but all were irrevocably dead.

"So where's Laura?" someone asked, somewhat awestricken. John noticed the voice came from Matt Morisson, arm still around his still-paling wife.

"Here, Matt," a tired voice replied, followed by Laura. She was limping distinctly, her jeans were torn and bloody, and her blue T-shirt was more rust-red than blue. Seeing his worried look she shook her head. "It's not all mine."

"Considering the amount of bodies, I'm not surprised," Fred quipped. Tired as she was, Laura still managed one of her best "if looks could kill" glares.

A strangled noise came out of Angela's throat, and Laura turned to her sister-in-law. She stepped forwards, eyes pleading. "Angel…"

"Get away from my children, you monster!" Angela shouted, pulling the twins behind her. John saw Katrina and Alex trying to get to their aunt, but their mother hustled them away.

"Monster…" Laura choked out a whisper, her face draining of all color. What happened next was something no one had ever seen before, and something that no one ever wanted to see again. She sank to her knees, her face twisting in pain, or what seemed like pain to the observers; the tears were a complete shock. And it was shocking: Laura Morisson, the Spartan who could incapacitate someone for looking cross-eyed at her, was sobbing like her heart was breaking, and for all they knew maybe it was. She knelt in the dirt crying, not even caring about her wounded leg, because the pain of being rejected by her own family was so much worse. West moved forward and placed one hand on the wounded Spartan's shoulder; Laura made no move to brush it aside like she normally would have, and in all probability she didn't even notice it was there.

Matt Morisson scowled, turning and heading out. "Where are you going?" John asked.

"To have a word with my errant wife."

--------

"She risked everything to save you and the twins, and this is how you thank her, by breaking her heart?"

"Didn't you see her? She was covered in blood, and the look she had in her eyes before. I don't want my children anywhere near that!" Angela was yelling. Nearby Alex and Katrina watched as their father and mother argued. "How could the UNSC have recruited such a monster?"

"Angela, shut up and listen!" Matt shouted back. "They didn't recruit the monster, they **_made_** the monster!"

"What?" Angela's face paled again, but she quieted down enough to listen.

"They conscripted her when we were just kids, put her through hell, all for this." Matt forced himself to calm down, then told his wife everything he'd hidden about Laura's past.

"I wasn't old enough to remember her, but they took her when she was only four. They trained her to kill, infiltrate, set explosives, in the end to be the ultimate soldier. But even then she was only being used as a guinea pig, so they could train the real soldiers, the SPARTAN-IIs. They made the monster, the same monster that saved your life, and helped raise our children. She risked everything for you, and this is her thanks? Do you know how much that hurt her?"

--------

"Laura, I don't think she means it," West murmured quietly, trying to reassure the wounded Spartan.

"Didn't you see her, the fear?" Laura was sobbing. "She didn't know, she never knew, what a monster I am. She never knew what I could do, we tried to protect her. Now she'll be afraid of me forever. What have I done? Oh God, what've I done?" The fact that she was referring to a religious figure was bad; if there was one thing John had learned, it was that she never disrespected sacred beings or items. She had to've been upset if she was calling on her own deity.

"She'll come around in time, you'll see," the general answered, but Laura was crying too hard to hear him.


	4. Chapter 4: Grim Discovery

Hello to my faithful readers (and faithful reviewers--you know who you are!)! Next chapter up, and slightly grisly--which is partly why it never got posted. And in case anyone noticed, a lot of these have no mention of the S-IIIs; the bulk of them were written before I thought of adding in the surviving S-III kids, so sorry. Reviews are always appreciated; flames will be used in a campus bonfire! ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 4: Grim Discovery**

Laura watched from the rear of the group as they explored the abandoned base; from the look of things it was left over from the war, and a few Covenant stragglers were still in residence. They'd already capped off a few Jackals and Brutes, but it wasn't as easy as she described it in her head—a still-smarting wound in her side was proof of that.

"You alright back there?" Fred asked.

"Would you quit fussing already?" she shot back in annoyance. "I'm not bleeding, I'm not dead, so quit babying me! Enough's enough!"

"Touchy," she heard him mutter over the COM; she shot a death glare towards his visor and stalked forward. The other members of their scouting party—a mixture of Sangheili and Spartans—cleared out of her way.

"If you're not bleeding, then why is your blacksuit wet?" John interrupted. Laura glanced down to check for herself, even going so far as to pull off a glove and run her bare hand down her side; it came away stained a dark red.

"Joy, must've been that last Brute," she grumbled. "Someone toss me a medkit?"

"Here," Kelly tossed her a first aid kit while Fred signaled a halt. "There's biofoam and bandages in there."

"Never mind the biofoam—save it for later on. We got sutures and painkillers?" Rummaging through the kit, Laura came up with the aforementioned items and began undoing her blacksuit. The gash wasn't deep, thankfully, but it definitely looked ugly.

"Tell me you're not going to do what I think you're going to do," Fred groaned.

"If you're squeamish you can turn around," she grunted, wiping as much blood away as she could. "Someone's gotta do it, though, and it might as well be me. I know what I'm doing—Mom made sure I would, in case I ever needed to stitch someone up in the field." Downing a pair of painkillers in one gulp, Laura turned her attention to threading the needle and stitching her skin closed. The pills wouldn't take effect in time for her to stitch herself up, but with any luck they'd kick in soon enough that she wouldn't feel pain for the rest of the mission.

"Disgusting," she heard one of the Sangheili mutter in his own tongue. "These humans are a dishonorable race. Look at how the female lets her blood be spilled!"

"There is only dishonor if the act is dishonorable," she answered in the same language, her voice tight as she tried to hold back the pain. "If blood is shed performing an act worthy of honor, then each drop of blood is an honor of its own. But if blood is shed during an act of betrayal or cowardice, every single drop is a disgrace. I deem it an honor to spill my blood if it means saving my people." She smirked as the alien recoiled in shock—not many people knew she could speak and translate the various languages of the Covenant Empire. _Probably the only time those memories of mine have come in handy._ Finishing the last knot in the sutures, she wrapped them tightly and stood up shakily.

"Hurts like a bitch, and not the best job I've done, but they should hold as long as I need them too," she muttered, resealing her blacksuit as best she could.

John tipped his helmet in her direction, and she shook her head once—her signal that now wasn't the time to talk. Shouldering the battle rifle she'd picked out for the mission, she took point—just in time to walk into what appeared to be a slaughterhouse.

"Heaven help us," she breathed, her pain forgotten, her hands shaking now from the sheer horror of what she was seeing. There were no bodies, no _intact_ bodies at least. Various limbs and pieces were scattered around what had once been a prison. Laura took a few shaky steps forward, and behind her heard the cries of horror and disgust from the Sangheili in the team—the Spartans were silent, but she knew they were affected as much as the rest of them. They were just conditioned against showing it.

"By the gods," one Sangheili roared. "What happened on this world?"

"A Lekgolo, honor," another replied, indicating a long-dead Hunter carcass. "If one of those beasts went into a rage…" He left the sentence unfinished, but there was no need of further explanation. The evidence around them was all too clear.

Laura tried her best to block out her surroundings, but the grisly carnage around her refused to fade away. "We should…we should gather what we can. Maybe…maybe these people had families, people who are waiting for news."

"Good idea, Laura," John nodded, and looked at Fred (since he was the ranking officer). Fred issued the orders, and the group fanned out looking for dog tags and what remains were left. Laura began her search on the "west" wall of the prison, gathering what she could and fighting the urge to vomit. _No one deserves this fate_, she thought, _no one._ Fighting back another wave of nausea, she glanced up in time to catch a glimpse of what looked like mahogany wood…A distressed cry escaped her as she dropped everything and ran forward, dropping to her knees to cradle the remains of a human hand, a hand that still clutched a carved wooden flute.

--------

Kelly, Fred, and John started at Laura's cry, and whirled around with weapons raised. What shocked them was the sight of the sarcastic, die-hard Spartan rocking back and forth on her knees, sobbing as she cradled the sad relic. John noticed the wooden flute, and recognized it as something Laura herself had carved; it was beyond him how it had gotten here, though. Behind him he could hear the Elites shifting uneasily, and he honestly didn't blame him: it had been a long time since he'd seen Laura this upset.

"Why?!" she suddenly screamed, turning her gaze to the ceiling. "Why did you have to take him? Wasn't it enough that I was willing to die, that I was willing to suffer for his sake? Wasn't it enough that they had to stand by, that they had to give me up to this hell of a life? He was the greatest thing that kept us going, that kept us together! Why did he have to die? Why did you take him from us? WHY?!?" She crouched over the hand, sobbing, but the only intelligible words were "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Who was this human to her?" one Elite asked; John only had his suspicions, but he had the feeling he was right.

"I think…I think it was her father."

Laura continued to cry, her tears forming large wet spots on both her uniform and the floor beneath her. She barely registered when Kelly moved forward and put one hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry," she cried, her voice shaking from her sobs.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Kelly murmured. "You had no idea, there wasn't anything you could've done."

"But I should've been able to do something!" she sobbed. "I should've been here with him, protecting him, instead of on Earth letting ONI push me around! What good are my augmentations and training if I can't even protect my family, huh? What use are they if I can't even protect one person?"

Kelly looked up and caught the signal from Fred. She opened a private COM channel and heard, "We need to get her out of here—she's no good to us at the moment."

"How are we going to do that? She'll probably only move to get revenge."

"Which is why we need to get her out of here." Fred moved up next to Kelly and slipped her a syringe—polypseudomorphine from the medkit, which he'd taken and loaded the minute he saw Laura screaming. There was about triple the normal dosage for a human, but with Laura's augmentations there were no guarantees that even a double dose would be enough. Kelly nodded and injected the contents into Laura's neck; Laura looked up, surprise and sadness mixed on her face, and passed out. Kelly caught her before she hit the floor and draped her over her shoulders.

"Get her back to the ship, and tell them what we found here. Tell them…tell them we've found Colonel Morisson."

"Yes, sir," Kelly replied and headed back to the ship; two Sangheili followed at an order from their leader.

"Why did you have to drug her, Fred?" John asked.

"You of all people should know why," he replied. "In her current state of mind, she wasn't going to be any good to any of us. She would've wanted revenge, and that kind of instability could have gotten us killed. I wasn't going to take the chance.


	5. Chapter 5: Petrarch's Legacy

Hello to my faithful readers--I know you're out there reading, since y'all have this on your fav/alert lists. At any rate, this chapter is the beginning of a series of flashbacks to Alaya's time period, so if that's not your cup of tea I recommend you stop reading now! ;) Reviews are greatly appreciated (hint hint); flames will be used on my fiance.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 5: Petrarch's Legacy**

Laura had just finished a particularly grueling workout when she heard a noise behind her. She didn't feel threatened yet, but kept one hand near her knives as she turned around. _Just in case…oh, okay, we're good_. It was Arisaya and Arnyris, along with a couple of disgruntled human Forerunner Council members. _Who pissed in their Cheerios, I wonder?_

"**Arisaya, Arnyris, I'm afraid I wasn't expecting you,**" she called, smiling, and performed a half-bow out of respect to the two. She ignored the councilors completely, a fact which wasn't lost on the young scientist.

"**Why do you not pay respects to the Council, Laura**?" she asked.

"**I am not Alaya, remember. She paid respect because she supported the ruling body at the time. I, however, give my respect to those who earn it. If someone wants my respect they must earn my respect—which is partly why ONI and I don't get along**." She smiled softly—a full smile, rather than her trademark half-smile.

"**That is a soldier's attitude, is it not**?" Arnyris asked. _The boy's matured quite a bit since I saw him last. This is a good thing, a very good thing._

"**Partly, but mostly my own attitude. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly your typical soldier.**" She clasped the young man's arm in a fraternal greeting, smiling even more when he returned it.

"**I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here. Has something happened**?"

"**No, nothing bad**," Arisaya replied, "**but I found something…something I think you should see. It was placed in storage millennia ago, and I have only now identified it.**" She reverently placed a cloth-wrapped package in Laura's hands, while the other Forerunners watched uneasily. Laura carefully unwrapped the folds of light, durable black fabric to reveal what appeared to be a simple metal cylinder, the ends of which were curved and surprisingly sharp…curved blades.

_"**Father, why do you carry that everywhere?**__" she asked. Her father had just returned from a mission to the edges of the Empire, and she and Marin had just been reunited with him._

_"**I know it does not look like much, little one, but I assure you that there is more to it than meets the eye,**__" he answered. She and her brother looked at each other, then at her father, trying to figure out what he meant. He laughed and pressed a hidden button, and the ends of the metal rod extended so that they were longer than her father was tall. A twist near the center of the rod turned it into two separate ones, and now she could see the curved blades at either end._

_"**This was a gift from your grandfather when I came of age, and in time will be yours, Marin. But you will both learn the secrets of this weapon, so that my legacy to you will not be lost.**__"_

_"**When will we learn, Father?**__" Marin asked eagerly. She smiled; even though her brother was barely eight years old, he thought he was capable of anything._

_"**Patience, my son, you will learn soon enough. You will both learn.**__"_

Laura blinked and the memory vanished, but she had no doubts as to what she held. "Petrarch's blade," she whispered, the awe in her voice apparent to everyone in the room.

"**How did you know?**" Arnyris asked. Even though she'd used her own tongue, he'd learned the language long ago and understood what she'd said.

"**The same way I know everything else from Alaya's time, young one**," she replied. Running her hands along the metal, she easily found the catch that allowed the cylinder to separate, and the controls that extended the blades. Laura backed away and, for lack of a better phrase, flipped the switch; the blades extended and she easily twirled them in one hand. The weapon felt like a natural extension of her arm, and she was able to run through a series of combat maneuvers with ease; it was as though she'd trained with that weapon all her life. Releasing the catch, she pulled the blades apart and twirled them, one in each hand, through a series of complicated Forerunner combat tactics—tactics she'd never learned before and never used until today.

"**I never thought anyone would know how to use this,**" Arnyris murmured to Arisaya.

"**She is not just anyone—she remembers the ancient times, Alaya's time. Why do you think I convinced the Council to bring it here?**" Arisaya watched as Laura returned, Petrarch's blade reassembled and inert in her hands.

"**Arisaya, Arnyris, thank you. I never expected to see this again. I…I mean…**"

"**We understand, Laura**," Arisaya interrupted. "**The memories are hard to separate for you sometimes. Thank you for showing us what it was.**"

"**There is more I have to show you—both of you**," Laura replied. "**Arisaya, you are a direct descendent of Alaya, that's no secret. Arnyris…**" she regarded the young man seriously. "**I'm surprised you haven't told anyone sooner.**"

"**While I may be proud of my heritage, I see no reason to advertise it**," he answered. "**There is nothing to be gained from it.**"

"**There is now. This legacy is meant for you as well.**" Laura's dark eyes twinkled at Arisaya's confused look. "**What your young friend hasn't told you is that he is a direct, father-to-son descendent of Aerus, son of Marin, son of Petrarch. Your two lines are separated by many generations, but both of you can claim direct descent from the great General. Both of you have a claim to Petrarch's legacy.**"

"**Legacy?**" Arisaya and Arnyris asked at once. Laura smiled even more.

"**This blade was handed down, father to son, from Petrarch's great-grandfather Petrarch the Elder, and eventually came to the hands of the great general Petrarch, father of Alaya and Marin. Each new holder had to learn the use of the weapon, and it's history, and when the time came it was passed down to the eldest son.**"

"**Then why didn't Marin pass it down to his own son?**" Arnyris asked.

"**Marin died before Aerus was born, and by the time he was old enough there was no need of it. Alaya most likely put it aside for a time, and forgot about it. In any case, the legacy will live on now, through you—if you wish.**"

"**We wish to learn,**" the two spoke in unison. Laura smiled happily, and she dared to think that somewhere Alaya and Marin were smiling as well.


	6. Chapter 6: Saving Marin

Hey to all my readers--and only reviewer (that's you, vrbtny! :D). Yes, this is another flashback chapter, inspired by Skillet's "Comatose". And yes, it's a little dramatic and cheesy, but since there's only one person who seems to be reading I don't think anyone's gonna care. Reviews are always appreciated--flames will be used on the BBQ.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 6: Saving Marin**

Corin watched as at least ten doctors operated on his second in command—Marin had been critically wounded in a major skirmish against the Flood. His entire platoon and quite a few others waited for news, including several members of the Council; Marin was, after all, Petrarch's son.

Almost unnoticed, a young human woman and a San 'Shyuum slipped inside the room, worried looks on their faces. He recognized Alaya, Marin's sister, and her friend Thaddeus instantly. They stayed at the back conferring quietly until the doctors came out. Corin held his breath, waiting for good news.

"**His injuries are mended, but he has lost far too much blood**," the lead doctor reported.

"**No problem, we'll give him transfusions ourselves**," Corin declared.

"**I'm afraid that's out of the question, Captain. Transfusion procedures require that the donor be related—and Marin is the last of his family. We cannot save him**."

"**Last of his family? That's not…**" Corin began, but Alaya saved him the trouble. She moved forward, attempting to gain entry; three other members of Corin's platoon blocked her way.

"**You can't go in there**," one ordered.

"**Try and stop me then**," she spat, and shoved him backwards. Another grabbed her and she took him out with a blow to the head. The third went down when she dropped and spun one leg out, knocking his legs out from beneath him. Jumping up and grabbing a pistol, she ran into the operating room, sealed the door by shooting out the lock.

"**Alaya, don't!**" Thaddeus yelled. Through the small window in the door they could see Alaya's face: sorrow and determination mingled before she turned away.

"**Get some technicians in here!**" one of the doctors yelled. "**We have to get that door open before she kills our patient!**"

"**Is that room monitored?**" Corin asked. The lead doctor nodded. Corin signaled to one of his men, who went to the nearest monitor and did his best to reroute the broadcast signal to that room. In a few moments they could see and hear what was going on in the operating room.

Alaya was busily rummaging through the medical supplies, finally coming up with a hypodermic syringe, an intravenous drip and a second needle. Pulling on a pair of gloves, she took the items over to the ailing soldier and began sterilizing a patch of skin on his arm.

"**A…laya?**" Marin whispered.

"**I'm here, _esan_****, I'm here**." Corin smiled briefly at the shocked gasps of his platoon—apparently this was the first they'd heard Marin had an older sister.

"**I...heard the doctors. They say…I'm not going to make it…I'm going to die.**"

"**No, Marin, you won't die**," Alaya murmured reassuringly. "**Not tonight, not ever.**" She slid the intravenous drip into Marin's arm and injected him with what Corin assumed was a tranquilizer, considering that within seconds he was unconscious. Attaching the second needle to the other end of the slender tube, Alaya sterilized a patch of skin on her neck…

"**She's insane!**" someone yelled as she slid the needle into her carotid artery and the blood began to flow through the tube.

"**Insane, no,**" one doctor muttered. "**It's one of the fastest ways to lose blood—there is a lot of blood moving in that vein, pumped by her heart. She is foolish, though, her blood will do no good.**"

"**You are wrong**," Thaddeus stated, moving forward—Corin thought part of the San 'Shyuum's moving had to do with the team of technicians that rushed into the room behind him, but most of it was him lecturing the doctors. The old scientist fixed the team of doctors with his strongest glare. "**Not only are you wrong to think that only family can provide safe blood, but you are wrong to assume that Marin was the last of his line. General Petrarch and Lady Fara had two children, of which Marin is the younger. There is another with the blood you claimed you needed.**"

"**Another?**" one of Corin's men asked—apparently he'd missed Alaya's calling his comrade 'little brother' earlier. "**Marin never said…**"

"**Because she told him not to**," Thaddeus interrupted. "**She believed she could keep better watch over him if no one knew who she was. But now her secret is useless**," he finished, gesturing to the monitor. On the screen they could see Marin regaining the color in his face, while beside him Alaya paled as her lifeblood flowed into his. Very soon she wouldn't be able to stand.

"**If we do not get into that room soon, she will die**," Thaddeus muttered; Corin could tell the old being was deeply troubled.

On the screen, Alaya was crawling into Marin's bed, careful to keep the transfusion going. Sliding one arm under the soldier's head, she took his hand in hers and lightly kissed his head.

"**Goodbye, _esan_**," she whispered, her eyes closing. Her face continued to pale as the blood kept flowing. In a little while she would need more blood…and if they couldn't get the door opened soon, there would be no one to give it to her.

"**Somebody get that door open!**" Corin yelled. The technicians worked faster, and within seconds there was a two-inch gap in the door. Corin and his men shoved the techs aside and pried the door open.

Alaya was slipping into unconsciousness, she could feel her body growing weak. It didn't matter to her, though, not if it meant Marin was going to live. He had a lot more waiting on him than she did: friends, fame, glory, a lover. _You will live_, esan, she thought.

She felt someone pulling the needle from her neck, a pair of hands lifting her. She felt light, like she was flying, that there was nothing anchoring her to the earth. Opening her eyes she saw Marin, still sleeping, strong and healthy with her blood flowing through his veins. She felt strong arms tighten around her, carrying her gently.

"**_Ada_****? Is it you, ****_ada_****?**"

"**No**," Corin whispered; she recognized his voice. "**What were you thinking, giving up so much of your blood?**" _He sounds ready to cry_, she thought faintly.

"**Marin…Marin needed it more than I**," she whispered. "**_Esan, _****you will live, I promised you, remember?**"

"**He will, thanks to you.**" Lifting her up, Corin carried her out of the room, following one of the doctors to a separate room where she could be examined.

"**She has lost a lot of blood, but she will live**," he was told within moments.

"**Good**," Corin replied brusquely. _Why do I care? I barely know the woman!_ Inside, thought, he knew she was more than just the scientist who made his weapons, or even his best friend's sister.

--------

Alaya woke up slowly, feeling a little stronger, but still weak. _I hope Marin is alright_, she thought as her eyes took in her surroundings. An IV was hooked up to her wrists, dripping clear fluid into her veins. Alaya recognized it as an experimental protein base that was designed to help patients rebuild their blood plasma—she had helped develop it herself, using compounds synthesized from the Flood's regenerative gene. _Thaddeus_, she thought, sure the old San 'Shyuum had pulled a few strings to get it to her. The bag was almost empty, but it didn't matter since she was awake and intended to check on her brother.

Sitting up, she moved her legs over the side of the bed and stood up; she was shaky and barely able to stand, but she was upright. A few shaky steps brought her to the door. Leaning on the wall, Alaya walked slowly down the corridor, following the sounds of happy chatter that she heard.

"**I thought for a minute you'd left us for good, Marin**," Corin's voice drifted out; her heart gave a little flutter at the sound, but she squelched it. _He means nothing to me, no matter how attractive he appears._

"**I thought I had as well, sir**," Marin replied. "**Last thing I remember was a hypodermic going in my neck. What happened?**"

"**Your sister happened**," a voice she didn't know answered—she assumed it was one of his fellow platoon members. "**She took out three of us, locked both of you in the operating room, and gave you one of the riskiest field transfusions I've ever seen.**"

"**Riskiest?**" Marin asked. Alaya moved closer, she was now just outside the room.

"**She put the IV drip in your arm**," Corin began, "**and the other end in her neck.**"

"**WHAT!**" _He sounds like our father_, Alaya thought, a faint smile on her face; the fact that he was bellowing meant he was doing better.

"**She left it in there for a long time too**," someone else added. "**If we hadn't gotten in there when we did…**" the voice trailed off.

"**Where is she?**" Marin yelled. _I have a feeling that's my cue to leave_. Alaya turned to go, but she hadn't taken more than a few steps when her legs gave out. She felt herself falling, but a pair of arms caught her before she hit the ground.

"**That was not one of your smarter ideas, Alaya**," Corin murmured. Alaya looked over her shoulder at the captain, who'd apparently left the room right as she fell.

"**Even scientists are allowed a few foolish moments, Captain**," she replied, trying to steady herself. Corin held her upright, and wrapped one arm around her waist to provide additional support. She felt a thrill of something she couldn't identify run down her spine, and in a way she didn't want to know what it was.

"**You know you could have died last night**," Corin murmured; Alaya guessed he was talking quietly to keep the rest of his platoon from hearing. _Guess talking to scientists is beneath a military man_, she thought with amusement.

"**My brother is worth the risk**," she replied. "**He has his whole life ahead of him, and as Petrarch's son he is well known and well-loved.**" _I will not tell you the rest of the story_.

"**And you aren't?**" Corin looked like he wanted to say something more, and Alaya waited for him to continue. Suddenly he pulled her close and kissed her; it was brief, but Alaya felt searing heat flood her senses, and a lightheadedness that had nothing to do with her blood loss. When Corin finally broke away, breathing deeply, she felt momentarily saddened by the loss of contact.

"**My apologies, Alaya**," he muttered. "**I didn't intend…**"

"**No need to apologize, Captain**," she interrupted, "**but it cannot happen again. Now if you'll be so kind, I would like to see my brother.**"

Corin nodded and helped the scientist into the room; Alaya almost quailed when every single eye turned to look at her. _Stand tall, remember who and what you are,_ she reminded herself, and with Corin's help walked to her brother's bed.

"**Alaya, what in the names of all the gods were you thinking?!?!**" Marin shouted.

"**It's good to see you too, Marin**," she deadpanned, completely ignoring his yelling. "**I assume you are feeling better, considering you are spending more time yelling at me than resting and recovering.**"

"**And what about you, bleeding to death for no reason?**"

"**I wouldn't call my dearest friend 'no reason', Marin**," she replied.

"**Too late, Alaya, your secret's out,**" one of Marin's platoon buddies snickered. "**We heard you last night—these places have cameras everywhere.**"

"**_Khasar_****!**" she muttered, much to the entire room's amusement; scientists were not generally known for strong oaths or curses. "**So much for my anonymity.**"

"**You knew it would come out eventually, Alaya**," Marin smirked.

"**I kept hoping it wouldn't. There were definite advantages to not being known as Petrarch and Fara's daughter,**" Alaya frowned. **"But I'd do this again in a heartbeat, _esan_****, that I know.**"

"**That's what worries me,**" he muttered.

--------

"Laura, everything okay over there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered, smiling fondly at her lover. John gave her a look.

"Another memory." It wasn't a question, and she nodded.

"About Alaya's brother Marin."


	7. Chapter 7: John's Memory

Well, it's that time of year again: the dreaded EXAM WEEK! (screaming) Sorry, that was bad. Anyways, the next couple of weeks are going to be hectic, and I don't know how much I'll be able to post before I head home for the summer (college sucks!), but I promise I'll do my best. At any rate, I had a number of people PM-ing about why John never had any flashbacks, so I decided to throw one in--but it never seemed to fit as well in any of the stories, so here it is. Flames will be used on my evil professors that are making me take exams. :P

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 7: John's Memory**

"**Well, well, well, what do we have here?**" Marin snickered when he joined his CO and friend in his quarters; he had finally recovered from his latest brush with death, thanks in part to his sister's risky and foolhardy behavior, and decided to pay Corin a visit. The two often got together when they weren't on a mission, and more often than not Corin usually had a woman in his quarters with him. Today, though, it was just Corin, sitting and staring at his latest medal.

"**I'm sure I don't know what you mean**," Corin grumbled, getting up to find a beverage for his guest. He usually had some sort of liquor on hand for in-between missions, when he and Marin got together to relax.

"**Corin, my friend, in all the time I have known you, you have never been alone in your quarters,**" Marin pointed out. "**And yet, for some reason, there is not a woman in sight, and you look like you haven't had friendly company in over a month—and we've been here for that and then some.**"

"**Perhaps the current crop of ladies is played out, my friend**," he replied, handing the younger man a cup of alcohol. The two smiled and toasted, then took a drink—within minutes they were both coughing.

"**Not bad, my friend, that's got quite the kick to it**," Marin smiled. "**Where did you get this?**"

"**One of the Sangheili warriors gave it to me, said I needed to experience a 'real' drink,**" Corin grinned back. "**It definitely has quite a kick—I daresay 'Varumee will find this amusing.**"

"**Alaya will have my hide if she finds out I drank this**," Marin chuckled, picturing his sister's face. "**Either that, or she'd try and join in, it's hard to tell sometimes with her.**"

"**Yes, she's quite the puzzle, your sister,**" Corin murmured, his mind drifting back to the fiery young scientist. The more he saw of her, the more he appreciated. After all, it took a special kind of person to risk everything to save her kin and others from the Flood alone—not to mention putting her life on the line no less than three times to save her brother. _Such devotion is rare among young women—especially those with her breeding._

"**Corin? Corin?**" He turned to see Marin looking at him, an odd look on his face.

"**Where were you, Corin? You looked like you were still back in the Outer Regions.**"

"**That's been happening a lot lately, my friend**," he replied, sipping at the strong Sangheili liquor. _Maybe I should ask him for advice_, he thought. Marin may not be married yet—though the way he was courting young Lady Eilinn meant that day would be soon—but he knew his sister, and might know why his thoughts kept wandering back to Alaya.

"**Marin, I seem to be caught at a disadvantage, and I need some advice.**"

"**I'll do my best, Corin,**" he replied, "**though I'm not sure how much help I can be**."

"**More than you think, my friend**," Corin murmured. "**But bear with me if I have trouble expressing myself—this…well, it's something I am unused to.**"

"**I assume it has to do with why there's no company with you?**" Marin asked.

_Thank you, my friend, for being so direct, _Corin thought dryly, and answered, "**You assume correctly. I was partially right earlier, when I said that the women were played out**." The captain sighed heavily, staring at his drink. "**The whole truth is, every time I look at another woman, my thoughts immediately turn to someone else.**"

"**You're in love then**," Marin stated. When Corin looked at him, he smiled a little. "**That's exactly what I felt after I met Eilinn. Nothing was right unless I was with her, and even though I've had plenty of opportunities I have no wish to take them. Eilinn is the only one I want.**"

"**Yes, but you have her…or will soon enough. Mine…I mean, the woman I want…she's out of my reach.**"

"**Who is she?**" Marin asked—now he was curious. With Corin's bloodline and good looks, not to mention his military prowess, it was hard to imagine any woman that would be out of his league. _Most women would gladly jump in his bed, and fight for the chance to be his bride, _Marin mused. _Well, except for Alaya, but then again she refuses to even look at a man. _He stopped his train of thought abruptly, realizing that lately his older sister had been in a similar state to Corin—the only difference being that she was able to throw herself in her work and mask her unhappiness.

Corin continued to stare at his drink, and mumbled a reply that Marin didn't hear. "**Who, Corin?**"

"**It's Alaya, alright!**" Corin shouted, throwing his arm up and flinging the remains of his drink to some corner of the room. "**Yes, I admit it, I fell in love with your sister! Your sister who has no interest in me or any other man, and who I have no right to even look at!**" A chuckle stopped his outburst: far from being upset or angry, Marin actually looked _amused_.

"**It's about time**," the younger man snickered. "**I was beginning to think you'd never fall for anyone—not that that's a bad thing, but it's not really enough.**"

"**And you're completely unconcerned with the fact that I desire your sister?**" Corin asked in amazement.

"**I know you, Corin. You won't go near her without my permission, and Alaya is capable of defending herself. And there is something else: you are not the only unhappy person I've seen.**" Marin grinned as he watched Corin fill in the missing pieces.

"**Alaya?**" he asked, and the other man nodded.

"**She's better at hiding it—in her case she dives even further into her work than usual, but since she does that anyway it's hard to notice.**" Marin stared at the wall, lost in thought, and continued, "**Now that I think on it, she'd been like this ever since that mission where she saved us from the Flood. At first I thought it was because she was trying to prevent that from happening again, but now I'm not so sure.**"

"**She has no interest in me, Marin—she's spurned any attempts to talk to her that I've made,**" Corin exclaimed.

"**There's a reason for that, my friend,**" he replied. "**A foolish reason, yes, but a reason nonetheless. When our father died she promised to protect me, no matter what—and refuses to do anything that might distract her from keeping that promise.**" Marin scowled and shook his head, dark brown hair flying in his face. "**The normal feminine pursuits were denied, and she has lived her life as though she were in a glass box.**"

"**You mean she has completely denied herself a life?**" Corin shook his head in amazement. "**What kind of woman would do that to herself?**"

"**You mean besides a foolish one?**" Marin snickered. "**I love my sister, but I have never agreed with her on this. Father never meant for her to deny herself a normal life, this I know. And I know she is interested in you, that much is obvious. She simply denies herself for my sake, thinking she is protecting me.**"

"**Apparently she forgets you can take care of yourself,**" Corin chuckled, relieved that Alaya wasn't simply uninterested.

"**That's who she is: her concern is more for others than for herself, even if it means she refuses to live her own life. My sister can be stubborn that way.**" The two men chuckled for a moment, then Marin grew serious. "**Corin, I don't like to ask this but I must….do you intend to court my sister?**"

"**I don't know, my friend,**" the other replied. "**I would like to try, but I fear she is immune to my charms.**"

"**If her current mood is any judge, I doubt it,**" Marin laughed. "**She is one who judges by actions, not pretty words and looks—and apparently she likes what she sees in you. You know, though, if you hurt her…**"

"**My friend, I promise you I would sooner hurt myself than her,**" Corin promised, and Marin smiled.

--------

"John? John, wake up!"

John opened his eyes to find a concerned Laura staring down at him. Her dark eyes were wide open, and the fear in them was easy to read—which meant bad news, considering that she was extremely adept at hiding her emotions.

"Damn it, John, don't scare me like that!" she cried, her voice cracking.

"Scare you?" he asked, sitting up. Somehow he'd ended up on the floor, which was odd because the last thing he remembered before the strange dream had been him looking for his sidearm before the twins got to it—if they hadn't already.

"You just fell down on the floor and blacked out. The twins started screaming and you didn't move! What the hell happened?"

"I…I had a dream," John replied. "Or was it a dream? I'm not sure…"

"A memory?" Laura's eyes widened even further, and suddenly John realized how she felt every time she experienced a memory—right now he felt uneasy and annoyed at the scrutiny. She seemed to sense it, and backed off. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be acting like this…guess this is how the rest of the world feels every time I blank out, huh?"

"Possibly, and now I know what it's like for you," he replied dryly. Laura held out a hand, which he took, and helped him upright.

"What…what did you see?" she asked quietly.

"Corin, and Marin," John answered. "He was basically asking for permission to court Alaya."

"And Marin was okay with it?"

"He all but encouraged it," John snickered, and proceeded to tell her what he'd seen.


	8. Chapter 8: The First Night

Happy Exam Week to all my readers! Just finished with my first one about an hour ago, so I decided to celebrate with a new upload. I'm fairly sure this is the last of the Forerunner flashbacks, and it's one I thought was cute (if a little cheesy). Didn't fit in well with the main storyline, though, so it ended up here--if you look closely you might find the part that was in Chapter 6 or so of "Return Home". :D Enjoy! Flames will be used on my textbooks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 8: The First Night**

Alaya wandered around the surface of the ringworld, trying and failing to clear her mind. Her brother was out of danger, but it seemed that now she was in danger from an entirely different source: her brother's captain. Marin had told her how desperate the captain had been to get to her when she'd locked herself in that hospital room to save his life, and based on her own experiences later she was convinced she had a problem. _He cares for me, in some way—and I would be lying if I said I felt nothing for him_.

Her wandering footsteps carried her to a stone statue: a man and woman stood, hand in hand, gazing into the distance. Glyphs on the base of the statue proclaimed this to be the resting place of General Petrarch and his wife, Lady Fara the healer. _Ama, Ada, how I miss you! I could use your guidance now._ Her feelings for Corin had grown, but she knew her oath still stood: as long as Marin was alive she had to protect him, no matter what.

Alaya toyed with the hem of her dress; she had only recently come from a practice with the other dancers. Surprisingly, even the intricate movements of the festival dances had done nothing to clear her mind, and she was left with confusion and wanting. _Why did this have to happen_?, she thought sadly, tracing the glyphs on her parents' grave with one finger.

"**Lady Alaya,**" a voice murmured behind her. She whirled around in surprise, the dress flaring around her legs as she moved. Corin regarded her with amusement and something else in his dark eyes—there was something about them that made Alaya unable to look away.

"**Captain, why are you here?**" she asked softly. Somehow she doubted that he was there by mere chance.

"**Marin told me I might find you here, he said you came here when you were troubled.**" The captain moved forward, and she took a step back, trying to keep some distance between them. "**Lady, I mean you no harm.**"

"**Then why did you come here, Captain? Wherever I am, it seems you are only a few steps behind, why do you haunt me so?**" Her eyes widened when she realized she'd said too much.

"**Perhaps for the same reasons you haunt me, Lady Alaya**," Corin replied. There was no mockery in his voice, none of the arrogance she had expected, just simple fact. He stepped closer again, and this time Alaya held her ground.

"**I doubt that I am the one who haunts you, Captain,**" she murmured. "**I am not the type to command anyone's affections, and I am certain I hold none of yours.**"

"**Are you so sure?**" Corin was now standing before her, close enough to touch her. With her dark hair bound in intricate braids and clad in a flowing green gown, she looked every inch of her breeding—and, in his eyes, too beautiful to be real. Gently, he reached out and touched her face, lightly stroking the curve of her cheek. Alaya closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his touch.

"**I've wanted to touch you like this for so long,**" he murmured, cupping her face with his hand. "**Ever since that day, when you risked your life to save Marin's.**"

It wasn't the best thing to say, and Alaya's eyes snapped open. _How dare he…_She pulled away and glared at him, anger and indignation sparkling in her eyes. "**So this is why you are here, so you can show your ****_gratitude_****? All you needed was to say so, not play with my affections!**"

Corin realized his blunder: she thought all he wanted was to seduce her, using gratitude as his excuse, and given his reputation he couldn't blame her. _She has no idea_. "**I do not deny I am grateful, but that has nothing to do with my feelings. Do you not see the truth, ****_alaya_****?**" The reference didn't go unnoticed, if the widening eyes were any reference.

"**Do not call me that, Captain,**" she scowled, trying to mask the flutter she felt. "**No man has that right, and no man ever shall.**" Turning her back, she began to walk away calmly, until Corin's next words stopped her cold.

"**Not even the ones who love you?**" Alaya stopped short and turned slowly, and Corin saw a smoldering fire in her dark eyes. _Is she angry, or is that something else I see?_ He could definitely see the blood she shared with Marin: she looked exactly like him when she was angry.

"**I doubt you have the capacity for love, Captain—and even if you did, I know I have no place in your world.**" She walked away, and Corin gave chase: he wasn't about to let her go so easily.

--------

Alaya heard him coming after her, and bolted. Corin was fast, but she was lighter and agile, a fact she hoped she could use to her advantage. She ran lightly through the wooded areas, part of her hoping to lose her pursuer, while another part hoped to be caught. The hem of her dress fluttered around her, catching from time to time on branches but never slowing her down. Behind her she could hear the soft sounds of booted feet in the grass, coming closer. _This will never do_, she thought, slipping behind trees and under hanging strands of creeper. She couldn't outrun him, but perhaps she could outwit him.

"**Alaya**!" She slipped behind a rather wide tree and waited silently for him to leave, holding her breath so as not to give herself away. There was the sound of boots approaching her tree, then they stopped and moved away. When many moments had passed and still there was no noise, Alaya moved a few steps forward and allowed herself to breathe. _He is gone_, she thought, right before she was caught and spun around the tree. Corin held her against the tree, his manner rough, but she felt no fear.

"**So, I have caught the elusive scientist**," he laughed. She knew it was useless to struggle, not that she wanted to. _Traitorous heart!_, her mind screamed.

"**Captain, let me go**." Corin held her firmly, and she knew somehow he wouldn't release her so easily.

"**Not before I claim my reward**," he murmured as he pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was passionate, but there was an undercurrent of something else she couldn't understand. Alaya felt his hands move, pulling her away from the tree and into his arms, holding her against him.

"**Alaya,**" he murmured against her lips, and she shivered in pleasure.

"**Captain…**" she whispered, trying to regain her senses. "**We cannot, we should not…**"

"**And why not?**" Corin asked, still holding her close. "**I do not deny my desire, but I know what you feel, I can see it in your eyes. What do you fear, _alaya_****?**"

"**I…**" Alaya looked away, afraid to meet his eyes. _How can he see so much in my eyes?_ "**I am not…I know what you wish of me. But I cannot give you that.**"

"**How can you be so sure?**" Corin caught her face and brushed his thumb along her lips, feeling her shiver at his touch. He gently kissed her temple, then dipped his head to capture her lips, but she pulled away, breaking free of his arms.

"**I know of you, Captain, of your charm with women, and of the many who share your bed with such ease. I am not like them, I do not have their charms, nor can I simply enter an affair and leave it unhurt.**"

"**Do you really think so little of me?**" he asked, and for a moment she could see the hurt in his eyes. "**Or have you not heard that in all the time I have been here, no one has come to my bed?**" He caught her arm and pulled her to him, tightening his grip so she couldn't escape. "**I no longer wish for a brief night of passion, nor for any of those other women. The only one I want is here, now, with me.**"

"**Your words may charm others, but not me, Captain,**" she replied with an effort. His closeness terrified and excited her, and she was confused. _Do I dare? Do I stay, or should I leave?_ For the first time, she felt herself torn between duty and desire.

"**Then do not hear them,**" Corin murmured, lifting her face to his. "**See the truth for yourself.**" Forcing her gaze to his, he watched her face, hoping she could see the truth in his eyes.

Alaya searched his face, seeing the longing, the loneliness he fought so hard to hide. She saw desire, passion, lust, and something else…something that ran deeper than desire and lust. _What does he feel? Is he toying with me?_ Her heart said no, her mind was unsure. Her heart said to trust him, her mind urged caution.

"**Alaya.**" His voice was soft, pleading, and she heard the hurt in his voice that she didn't trust him. Alaya made no answer, she was confused and lost. Should she risk her heart, or stay safe? Did she let herself trust him, only to have her heart broken?

"**I…**" her voice cracked, and the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. Corin seemed to take her silence as rejection, and abruptly released her.

"**Forgive me, Lady Alaya,**" he said coolly as he turned away. _She wants nothing from me, it seems. Marin was wrong after all._ He began walking away from the denser woods where he'd chased Alaya, back to the wide spaces.

"**Corin, wait!**" Her voice stopped him, and he turned and watched as she stumbled to him; running forward, he caught her in his arms and held her tightly.

"**Please, Corin, don't go. Forgive me,**" she said softly, her voice muffled by his uniform. "**Please, don't go.**"

"**Why?**" He needed to hear the words, from her lips, in her voice.

"**I…I want you to stay,**" she whispered, afraid to admit the truth.

"**So do many others, but why do you wish me to stay?**" he pressed. "**I need to know, Alaya, I need to know the truth.**"

Alaya looked at him, dark eyes brimming with tears. "**I…I love you,**" she whispered, turning her face away, afraid to see the laughter in his eyes when he told her she meant nothing. A hand caught her face, and Corin brought her gaze back to his.

"**Took you long enough, _alaya_**," he murmured before taking her lips in a kiss that almost brought her to her knees. He pulled her against him, molding her against his body, showing her what it felt like when a man kissed a woman. She moaned softly, and Corin slid his tongue in the warmth of her mouth, tracing and teasing. Alaya, he knew, had almost no experience, but she was a fast learner, and soon it was he who moaned when she caught his lower lip in her teeth, lightly nibbling and teasing him. Finally he broke the kiss, allowing them both to breathe.

"**Captain…**" she began breathlessly.

"**No, Alaya,**" he cut her off, pressing his finger to her lips, then replacing it with his mouth. In between kisses, he whispered, "**Say my name, _alaya_****, beloved.**"

"**Corin,**" she sighed, and he captured her mouth in a kiss that sent her senses reeling and a warmth blooming in parts of her body she'd almost forgotten she had. Before she realized it, his hands were roaming her body and he pulled away, his breathing ragged.

"**Alaya,**" he murmured, trying to control himself before he went too far.

"**Did…did I do something wrong?**" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

"**No,**" Corin whispered, kissing her gently. It was taking all his self-control to keep from taking her where they stood. "**You are doing everything right, _too_**** right. If I do not stop…**" he trailed off, and Alaya understood. _He is trying to prove his sincerity,_ she realized. _He is trying to show me I am not simply another of his 'conquests'._

"**Corin, I trust you,**" she murmured. Taking his hand in hers, she brought it to her chest and laid her hand over his. The simple gesture all but undid him: he kissed her again and again, fighting the urge to lay her down and claim her as his. Pulling away long enough to gaze in her eyes, he saw the same need in hers.

"**Alaya, I want you,**" he growled.

"**I know.**" Alaya pressed herself against him, smiling shyly when she heard him gasp. While she had no real experience with courtship and mating, she knew enough about biology and anatomy to know when a being was aroused and where they felt the most. Yet nowhere had the texts and files said anything about the feelings or sensations she felt coursing through her now.

"**Not here,**" he growled, taking her by the hand and dragging her off.

--------

Somehow Alaya found herself in her own living quarters with Corin kissing her senseless. She didn't remember how she got there, and didn't really care: she was more concerned with the sensations and pleasure Corin was giving her. Her hair was unbound, her gown and his uniform had vanished, and soon his undergarments followed. Alaya looked on in surprise and appreciation—she had seen pictures in her textbooks of the male anatomy, but nothing as impressive as this.

Corin didn't give her much time to admire what she saw; lavishing her body with kisses, he made short work of her underthings and laid her on her bed. She heard a moan escape her lips, and Corin chuckled.

"**Please, Corin,**" she gasped as he dipped his hand between her legs; a tingling wave of pleasure engulfed her just from his touch.

"**Soon,**" he promised, testing her. She was moist and ready; hovering over her, he plunged himself in to the hilt. He felt resistance, and Alaya's cry of pain pierced the fog in his mind. Looking down, Corin saw a few tears trickle down her face.

"**You…you were untouched?**" He'd known she was inexperienced, but this…_What have I done?_

_"**I'm sorry,**" she whispered, a sad look chasing away the pain in her brown eyes. "**I always promised myself that I would not cry, that I would bear the pain…**"_

Corin lowered his head and kissed away the tears, gently nuzzling her neck. "**Alaya, you have nothing to be sorry for. I promise I'll be good to you.**" Slowly, he began to move, sliding in and out, bringing Alaya to heights of passion and pleasure she had never known before.

--------

The early morning sun played across her face as Alaya woke. Her lower body was sore, but she felt an odd sense of contentment. _No need to rush_, she thought drowsily, stretching out; her arm found a depression in the bed beside her, where someone else had lain. Remembering her actions the night before, she shot upright in her bed, wincing as her lower regions protested. She was alone; Corin was gone, and seemingly had been for some time. _So I was nothing more than a conquest after all,_ she thought bitterly.

A glint of gold caught the corner of her eye, and she turned to see an exquisite armband on the pillow where Corin had laid his head. Firegems twinkled in many-colored rainbows, and were set in an ornate band of gold and silver. Alaya recognized the design, since her mother had worn one for as long as she could remember, until her death: it had been a betrothal gift from her father.

Beneath the armband was a sheet of fine parchment, folded and inscribed with her name. Gently unfolding it, she began to read:

_Alaya,_

_ I imagine you will most likely be cursing my name when you wake up to an empty bed. All I can hope is that you understand when I say it was hard for me to leave, but I had no choice. And you looked so peaceful as you slept that I could not bear to disturb you; I will carry that image with me until I see you again. The reason I went to find you last night, besides to tell you what I felt, was to say farewell: my unit leaves at midday, and I will have to spend time getting everything in readiness. Even if we were still to remain here, I would have no choice. If I were to stay with you until you woke, there would be the chance that someone would see me—and knowing what I do now I could not in good conscience allow that to happen. Your reputation would be tarnished, and you do not deserve such a thing. Not from me, not from anyone. _

_ I hope my words make sense—I am unused to loving sentiments and gentle speech, but you deserve that much, and more. No other woman has ever inspired me to try, not even when I was a young man trying to impress the women my father brought before me when I came of age. Even as I ponder the words to write this, I cannot recall ever feeling anything like I feel now for you, _alaya.

_I wish there was some gift that would match the one you gave to me this night. Had I known you were innocent, I would have forced myself to wait—nothing so valuable should be taken so carelessly. You deserved far better than what I gave to you. Do not mistake me: I do not regret being with you, nor do I wish I had never come to find you last night. What I regret was the pain I gave you: had I known, I would have held myself back, or at least been more gentle in my loving._

Alaya felt herself smiling, a few tears prickling the corners of her eyes: for a soldier, Corin had a romantic side she never would have expected. Wiping her eyes, she continued reading:

_ As I said, I wish I had a gift as precious as your innocence, but I do not. There is only one thing I can think of, but it depends mostly on you, Alaya. By now you have seen the armband—I do not plan to be subtle in leaving that. _(Alaya smiled as she read this.) _When I entered the age of courtship, my mother gave me this to give to my bride, when I found her—my father had given it to her long ago. You know the tradition as well as I, and what it means for me to leave this here. I love you, Alaya, not because of your line, but because of who you are._

_ I hope you will accept me as your husband and mate, but I do not expect an answer now. Nor am I doing this from a sense of obligation: I respect you too much to lie to you like that. I have loved you ever since you saved Marin's life the first time, and when you risked your life to save his I thought my world had ended. And, whether you or Marin believe me or not, I have hoped many times that I would find someone to love, even as I spent my passions with other women in my bed. The gods blessed me the day they sent you into my life, Alaya, and I can only hope I can prove myself worthy of you. All I ask is that you wait for me._

_ I love you,_

_ Corin_

--------

"**Thaddeus?**"

The old San 'Shyuum glanced up from his work to see his younger counterpart approaching. Alaya wore disheveled civilian garments, and her eyes were red from crying. _What has happened to her?_ he thought.

"**Alaya, young one, are you well?**" he asked.

In answer she reached into a pocket in her worn garments, and pulled out an object that had been carefully wrapped in blue velvet. Thaddeus unwrapped the folds and gasped—the contents wrapped in the cloth shocked him.

"**Who…**" he asked, barely able to form the words. Seeing the folded parchment, he opened the letter and read it speedily. Setting the parchment down, the old San 'Shyuum picked up the armband and studied it: the firegems twinkled innocently in the light, and the fine metals gleamed between his wrinkled fingers.

"**Alaya, is this true?**" She nodded, a fresh wave of tears spilling over her face.

"**He…he meant every word, Thaddeus. I am certain of that much. But I have my oath…an oath I have already broken.**"

"**I do not think your father would wish you to do this, Alaya,**" Thaddeus replied. "**He would wish you to be happy, and to find someone to care for you. My only fear is what will happen if word spreads of what has occured.**"

"**As far as I know, you are the only other one who knows of this,**" Alaya shook her head. "**I don't know what to do, Thaddeus. Do I accept him?**"

"**Do you love him?**" Thaddeus countered. Alaya turned away, and the old being barely heard her murmured answer.

"**Yes.**"


	9. Chapter 9: Insanity

Whoo, no more exams! At least, not for the rest of the year. Unfortunately, this also means I go back home for 4 months, which means dial-up and fewer chapter uploads. But, since only a few people seem to be reading this I don't think anyone'll mind. At any rate, new chapter up before I go. This was the original draft for chapter 12 (or 13, I'm not sure which right now), but was much too melodramatic. In my defense, I was listening to "Never Too Late" at the time. Flames will be used on my evil younger brother. ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 9: Insanity**

The memories were growing harder and harder to bear. More often than not Laura found herself struggling to maintain her sanity. And with two kids and ONI on her case, that wasn't an easy task. _Plus the minute ONI finds out I'm losing it, I'm in deep shit. Damn, I wish John were here._ Ever since the Spartans had returned from Zeta Doradus, John had been with them at all times, which meant that she never saw him anymore. And when he was her only link to sanity, that was a problem. _Never mind that I miss him like crazy_, she thought sadly.

Another wave of memories crashed into her, and she fought to push them back. Tears flooded her eyes, and she held her head in her hands. _I can't take it anymore!_ Getting up and running for the door, she threw it open and ran.

--------

"Master Chief, we have a problem." Lorienna swirled into being, a look of horror on her face.

John looked up from cleaning his sidearm, and concern washed over him, though he didn't show it. "What is it?"

"Laura just took off running, and she was a mess when she did." Lorienna frowned. "The memories are getting to be too much for her, I think she finally lost control."

"Memories?" Fred asked, walking in with Linda and Kelly in tow. "What memories?"

"She's been relapsing again?" John asked.

Lorienna looked flustered. "You mean you didn't know? She never told you?" The AI slapped a hand to her forehead. "Of course she wouldn't tell you, she's too damn proud to ask for help. Plus you haven't been around to see for yourself." The dig didn't go unnoticed, but right now John was too worried to care.

"Any idea where she might go?"

"There's a handful of places she could be: Silver Pond, the cemetery, the river, the old camp. Give me a moment and I'll check on her implants." Lorienna closed her eyes and concentrated. "Got her—she's heading to the old camp. There's a cliff left over from the bombing that overlooks the ruins. She's climbing up to it right now."

The group stood quickly and bolted out the door. John led the way, having the most knowledge of the surrounding area, and in minutes the Spartans were in view of the cliff. They could see a figure in black atop the edge of the cliff, long brown hair flowing out behind her in the wind. She was kneeling, holding her head in her hands, and rocking back and forth. As they got closer they could hear her murmured words, "No, I can't do this anymore. Get out of my mind, get out, get out, get out!"

"Laura…" John called. The woman rocketed to her feet, staring at them with scared, sad eyes.

--------

"Laura…" The last voice she would've expected to hear reached her ears, and she stood quickly, almost sending herself off the cliff in the process. There was John, and Fred, and Kelly and Linda, and all the others. _Too late, too late_. She'd come here to get one last view of what she'd be leaving behind, but there was really no choice in the matter—the memories were too much for her. _Only one way out_.

"So you're here, but too little too late," she murmured, her voice sad. "Why now, why bother to come now?"

"Are you really planning on doing this?" he asked. "What about Sam, and Kelly? What about us?"

"Us?" Laura laughed bitterly. "What 'us' is there? Did you think of us when you abandoned us? Have you ever once thought of us since your comrades came back? Where were you when I cried alone, when I felt the memories taking over me? Did you ever once think I might need some help, knowing what you know of me? Where were you?"

"You could have asked for help," John yelled. "Why didn't you ask?"

"You weren't around to ask. No," she continued, "there's nothing you can do to help me now. There's nothing left. There's only one way out."

"Are you insane?" Kelly shouted.

"Believe me, this is the clearest my mind has ever been. There's only one way out." Turning her back on the group, she faced the ruins of her old home. _Ironic, really, that the place I let fall is the place where I die._

"Laura, NO!" John's voice shouted, but she had already jumped. She felt the wind whistling through her hair, saw the ground come to meet her, felt the hard earth strike her…

John watched the woman he loved plummet to her death, and heard the thud as her body hit the hard ground. _How could she? Why didn't she say anything?_ He moved forward, seeing the bloody, sprawled body on the dirt. Long dark hair spilled over her face, and her limbs lay in unnatural positions.

"How could she not tell me?" he whispered.

"Knowing her protective tendencies, I'm not surprised," Fred commented. He regarded the figure sprawled in the dirt, and noticed something—her arm was trying to move, she was trying to move! "John, look!"

They watched as Laura crawled up and stood shakily, amazingly still alive, but badly battered. Limping, she looked back at them, and limped on to the ruins.

"Where's she going?" Kelly whispered.

"Camp Hayes," John answered. "She's always felt guilty about that—what better place to kill yourself?"

Without another word, they followed her down the cliff—taking a slightly safer path down.

--------

Laura moved slowly through the blackened ruins of what had once been Camp Hayes, hearing the ghosts and taunts from all those she had failed. She hurried to the center of the camp, as quickly as her injured body would allow.

**_Please, do not do this. We will both die_**.

"I don't care anymore. I can't live like this," she sobbed.

**_Why? Why doom us both?_**

"Your memories are killing me, don't you see?" Laura's sobs grew louder. "I can't live not knowing whether I'm me or you. I can't live two lives in one mind."

**_Are you so sure you wish to do this?_**

"There's nothing I wouldn't do anymore," she hissed, grabbing a charred and twisted piece of steel. She raised it, intending to drive it between her ribs until an iron-hard grip snagged her wrist.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," John growled, wrenching the makeshift weapon out of her hand.

"And what makes you think you suddenly have a say in what I do?" she hissed.

"The fact that you tried to stab yourself with a piece of metal?" he pointed out. "I have never known you to run from a fight."

"Then you don't know me at all." Laura tried to pull her wrist free. "Remember when ONI threatened my family? I ran then, to protect them. And when ONI threatened you, I ran then, and it was only by damn luck you found me before I bled out. How is this any different?"

"You're not alone, for one," he reminded her, tightening his grip; Laura winced. "And you have two kids to think about too. Are you being fair to them right now?"

"Is it fair to them to be stuck with a schizo for a mother? Half the time I don't know who I am anymore. How is that being fair to them, huh?" She was sobbing now, slumped over John's boots.

"You could've asked for help," Linda pointed out.

"Except no one was there to ask," John muttered. _I wasn't fair to them_, he realized. Crouching down, he held the crying Spartan lightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"We're not that hard to find, you know," Fred commented.

"And why would she come to us?" Linda reminded him. "Especially if she's been trying to maintain the fiction that John's just a friend, rather than her lover?"

"Besides, how would you react if you thought you were losing your mind?" John added. "Especially if it meant you might get pulled from duty?"

Fred hesitated. "Exactly," Linda pointed out. "You wouldn't want to admit it either."

"Then throw in ONI trying to find a reason to kill her off and/or control her, and she's understandably paranoid." Kelly frowned. "Still, why not at least send a message?"

John shook his head, not knowing why, and at the moment not caring. Laura was still really rattled, besides being pretty beat up from the fall, and he wanted to get her somewhere safe. Scooping her up, he led the way through the ruins to what had once been a bunkhouse, but was now a large crater. "Fred?"

Fred nodded and whistled a six-tone tune: a hidden door slid open and the group descended into darkness, at least until lights blinked on and showed them a rocky tunnel. They found their way into a command center, one completely different from the one they'd seen when her children were kidnapped. This one had two cryotubes, weaponry everywhere, a few powered exoskeletons, and several computer systems. A holoprojector swirled into being, and a translucent figure in a blue gown watched as John put her in an open cryo chamber.

"Freezing her isn't going to help," Lorienna mused. For once the AI was serious.

"I'm not freezing her, but she needs to rest. And as far as I know she doesn't have a bed down here."

"No, just several thousand bedrolls, and I doubt the hard ground and a sleeping bag would help, considering her injuries." Lorienna scowled. "Check the cabinet above your head. There should be some tranqs and drugs in there."

"No, no drugs," Laura protested, her voice a strangled sob.

"You don't have much of a choice," John replied as she protested. Reading various labels, he grabbed one Lorienna indicated and filled a syringe. Grabbing Laura's wrist, he inserted the syringe and injected her arm; within seconds she was out cold.

Kelly whistled. "What did you give her?"

"It's a surgical anesthetic used by the medical teams. Laura made sure this command center—and the entire bunker—was fully stocked and equipped for every possible emergency." Lorienna smirked. "World invasion notwithstanding, of course."

"Why give her this one, though?" Linda asked.

"To kill the pain, partly. Also, she hasn't been sleeping well—most of the memories come when she's asleep. And no sleep can have detrimental effects on rational thinking, especially when memories begin happening in broad daylight. Plus if she's drugged she won't act rashly."

"True. And right now I think she needs sleep." John put one hand on the drugged Spartan's head. "Can you keep an eye on her?"

"Easy, but why?" Lorienna crossed her holographic arms. "You haven't shown any interest in her since we brought back the rest of the SPARTAN-IIs."

"I know, that was my fault. But right now I need to make sure Sam and Kelly are safe. Once I've done that Laura and I are going to have a long talk."

--------

John returned to the safehouse much later to find Laura up and about. She'd obviously showered and changed: her hair hung in damp curls down her back and she was in a chocolate-colored sleeveless tunic and black leggings. She was still a little shaken, but appeared much calmer, and John could smell faint traces of chamomile coming from somewhere.

"Chamomile tea?"

"Lorienna's idea, and considering she's practically imprisoned me down here I'm not about to argue." Laura brushed one damp curl behind her ear. "She also gave me a rundown on my injuries, and I've just finished patching myself up a bit."

"What she means is she's wrapped her ribs, pumped herself full of biofoam, and stuck her ankle in a brace," Lorienna interrupted, grinning.

"Compared to what I usually get, that's minor patchwork." Limping over to a table, she found another teabag and an empty mug, and turned to enter another room.

John stopped her, taking the mug from her hands. "You should be resting, let me get it."

"You don't know what you're doing, hotshot," she reminded him, but did as she was told.

"I can strip down a battle rifle under fire, I think I can handle a tea cup and microwave." Moving to the next room, he was able, with some assistance from Lorienna, to get the tea done.

"I'm impressed." Laura smiled softly when he gave her the cup. Sipping, she winced and blew gently on the transparent brew. "Little warm, though."

"Thought you liked it hot," he replied.

"There's hot, then there's scalding." Laura set down the mug and raked one hand through her dark hair: when it hung loose like that after a shower you could see the curls she claimed to have had since childhood. Sighing, she looked John in the eye; there was worry in the brown gaze.

"Guess you're waiting for answers. I know I would be, if the roles were reversed." Sighing again, she raked her hand through her hair again. "Ask away."

"How long has this been going on?" John asked.

"Pretty much ever since we got back from Zeta Doradus," she replied. "At first it was nothing more than the occasional flashback, an occasional dream at night. I pushed it off as normal…well, as normal as any of that ever gets. Then things started getting worse."

"How much worse?"

"I was starting to get flashbacks without any kind of stimulus—no circlet, no contact with anything Forerunner, nothing. The dreams began to get a lot more serious, and there were a lot of times I'd look around and not recognize my own home, or my own family." Laura put her head in her hands. "Then I started hearing my own voice, in my own head, asking me questions in the Forerunner language, asking me where I was and if I could hear her."

"Yikes." John shook his head. "That would send anyone over the edge." Cupping her chin in his hand, he lifted her gaze to his. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't around, for one—I figured you weren't interested in my life anymore. And you looked happy, happier than I'd seen you in a long time." Laura pulled away. "Who was I to get in the way of that? If your being happy means I go it alone, so be it. The hardest part was trying to explain to Sam and Kelly why you weren't around."

"And you think that just being with the others is the only thing that makes me happy?"

Laura shrugged. "Based on what I saw, yes. Of course, the fact that I'm borderline-insane might've skewed my perceptions a bit."

"Don't let her attitude throw you, Chief," Lorienna warned. "She's only making light of the situation to keep herself from breaking down again."

"I noticed." John moved forward again and lightly gripped her arm, pulling her close. Laura didn't even bother to fight back, since to be close to him was what she wanted. _Though I wish it wasn't because I snapped._

"We'll get through this," he murmured. "We'll find a way, I promise."

"It's not your fight, hotshot, not this time," she answered quietly. "It's not like you can march inside my psyche with an MA-5B, you know."

"And you can't do it alone, as we've all found out," John reminded her. "You need someone to keep you grounded, you've said so before." Strong arms held her for what felt like the first time in months, and in spite of everything she felt herself relaxing.


	10. Chapter 10: PTSD

Greetings from the middle of nowhere! I'm actually doing this on my workbreak--yay free wifi! At any rate, this is the next installment of the Declassified Files, and even though nobody's been reviewing I plan to keep posting. Flames will be used on the idiot hires at McDonald's who don't work.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 10: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder**

John watched the rest of the barracks sleep; even though they were on a supposedly-friendly ship he was taking no chances, and had suggested they set up a watch. He was due to be relieved when the Forerunner High Council came in.

"We wished to speak with Al—with Laura," a Prophet asked in slow standard.

"Laura's resting now," he replied. Unfortunately, right after he said that a loud creaking noise drew his attention, waking everyone in the room in the process. Laura had started thrashing in her sleep, and was muttering various sentence fragments under her breath.

"…won't tell you…Marines, be strong…no…won't beg…Nana, Nana, it hurts…no, leave them alone…come after me you bastards…" Laura's dreamlike ravings were beginning to unnerve him. Tears were coursing down her face, which was screwed up as if she was in pain.

"What the hell is with her?" Fred muttered sleepily. John could only speculate, but he had a feeling he knew.

"A memory, I think," he answered softly.

"She doesn't usually react like this to memories, though," Kelly frowned. "Usually she just spaces out and goes blank."

"This isn't one of Alaya's memories," John replied, concern visible on his face—he'd watched her relive this nightmare too many times before. "This is one of hers."

_Taking her by the arms, they bound her with antigravity collars, effectively holding her in one place; no matter how hard she struggled she couldn't break free…two Brutes positioned themselves on either side, armed with spear-type weapons…the Prophet questioned her for hours about Earth's defenses, but she gave no answer...each refusal to speak was rewarded with a stab from the spears, which were electrified…she called out, "Marines! Be strong!"…the Brutes and Prophet were clearly getting impatient; the 'holy one' ordered the maximum amount of pain…she screamed in pain, a loud, echoing sound…_

Laura screamed and wrenched herself out of the Brute's grasp…and promptly found herself hitting the metal deck next to her bunk. Dark eyes shot open, wide and terrified, and as luck would have it the first thing they saw was the Jiralhanae elder, who had moved closer to see what was going on.

"Get away from me! Stay back!" she cried, trying hard to back up. The bunk right behind her, however, meant she couldn't get far. "I won't let you hurt us!"

"Laura, calm down!" John yelled, one hand darting out to grab her arm; the other hand motioned the rest of the room to back away. Laura was still very terrified and clearly disoriented, shaking hands clutching her sides as she glanced rapidly around her, as if she were looking for a weapon. "It hurts," she whispered.

"Wake up, Laura, you're okay," John murmured, trying to quiet her. _Her making me see to the twins has its benefits_, he thought wryly. Eventually he could see she was coming around: she wasn't shaking as badly, and she'd started to quiet down a bit.

"I…I was dreaming?" she asked, her resemblance to a frightened child extremely unsettling.

"You tell me," Fred muttered. "One minute we're all sleeping peacefully, the next you're thrashing in your bunk and screaming like no tomorrow. What on earth were you dreaming about, anyway?"

She didn't answer right away, but ran her hands up and down her sides, as if she were rubbing away some kind of pain; John grabbed her wrists and pulled them away to reveal the ugly, raw pink scars on each side of her torso. "Looks like you landed on them," he muttered.

"They don't hurt…not as much, now that I'm awake," Laura replied brokenly, a few stray tears still trailing down her cheeks, which she wiped away with a shaking hand. Looking up, she noticed the stunned Council standing there and tried to put on a brave face.

"I'm…I'm sorry you had to see that," she sniffed, trying to get her tears under control. "I usually don't get flashbacks like that…not those, not this badly."

"**Those scars, where did they come from?**" the Jiralhanae asked softly.

"**From your brethren during the war, honored one**," she replied softly before switching to standard. "I…I allowed myself to be captured, so I could give my friend time to get to safety. And when they had me…they…" Dark eyes filled with tears, and Laura buried her head in John's shoulder, uncharacteristically seeking comfort. And, if everyone were to be honest with themselves, seeing a normally fiery person this rattled was extremely unsettling.

"They tortured her," one of the Sangheili elders murmured; between the horrible scarring he'd seen and the obviously traumatic nightmare, it was all too clear to him.

"She spent a week in a coma once we found her," John nodded. "Three more months trying to recover, and ever since then she's had…nightmares. I guess they're really more flashbacks than anything. The doctors say it'll fade in time, call it post-traumatic stress disorder or something."

"No wonder it's popping up now," Linda mused. "Here we are on a high-risk mission, she's worn down by all these other memories, of course this is gonna pop up."

"As if we didn't have other things to worry about," Fred growled.

Laura chuckled wryly, a few bits of shaky bravado returning. "Oh, you won't have to worry about this, hotshot. For some perverse reason I only get these when I sleep, never when I'm awake and doing shi—stuff," she amended, casting a glance at the Elders. "It's only when I sleep that I have to worry."

"But if you're not sleeping you're not in top shape," Kelly pointed out.

"Point." Laura tipped her head and smiled sadly. "The psychs gave me a bunch of pills just in case I needed them, but I absolutely hate taking meds unnecessarily. 'Sides, until I sort out this mess in my head I'll be stuck with the flashbacks no matter what I do. Either way, I'm in trouble."


	11. Chapter 11: Stronghold, Version 1

Yay for pre-shift uploads! Yes, I am doing this at work, and I bring you Chapter 11 of the Declassifieds! This is the original draft of the arrival at Stronghold in Return Home, so some of the things in here will be familiar. Dare you to spot the differences! :D Flames will be used on my idiot coworkers.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 11: Stronghold, The Original Draft**

The ship shuddered as they took a hit, and the four Spartans had to grab on to something unless they felt like being jostled around. Kelly managed to steady Dr. Halsey with one hand.

"What the hell?" John yelled. "Who's shooting at us?"

The shipwide alarms blared, along with an AI's voice saying "Covenant cruisers inbound. All crew to battle stations."

"That's all well and good," Fred started in, "but what are we going to do? And where's…?"

A woman in a slightly disheveled condition rocketed in the room, bouncing off a wall and ricocheting into a table, cursing as she went.

"…Laura," Fred finished, studying the figure. Dark hair tumbled and tangled down to her waist, a brush was gripped in between her teeth, boots dangled from her hand, and she was definitely _not_ in uniform, unless you counted shorts and a sports bra as a uniform.

"Say a word and you die," she muttered around the brush in her mouth as she plopped into a chair and tugged a boot onto a bare foot.

"Not exactly regulation, though," John ribbed—he knew he was the only one who had the remotest chance of getting away with it.

"Would you rather I'd come in butt naked? It was bad enough that I got rolled out of the top bunk by the captain when we got hit. Be glad I took the time to put something on." Shooting glares around the room, Laura spit the brush out and began yanking it through the tangled brown waves.

"Watching you is giving me a headache," Kelly commented.

"Then don't…fucking…_look_," she grunted when she hit a particularly large tangle. "Now what the hell is going on here? Thought…_ughn_…we'd get to Stronghold without trouble."

"That was before we got attacked by the Covenant," Dr. Halsey moved over and took the brush out of Laura's hands. "Let me help while they bring you up to speed."

"Um…yeah...thanks," she replied, fiddling with an elastic band around her wrist. "So can I see what's going on outside? Thought there weren't supposed to be Covenant near Stronghold."

"Tell that to the Covenant," John pointed at the display screen, where three Brute ships were closing on their position. "We have no idea how long they've been here or what they're doing, but Intel didn't pick up on it. Now they're attacking—"

"Those aren't Covenant." Laura pulled forward, her hair sliding out of Dr. Halsey's hands as she scrutinized the screen. "Look at the attack patterns, the lack of evasion tactics. Not even Brutes are this stupid. This is something else…" Her voice trailed off and her face took on a vacant expression.

"She okay?" Kelly asked as she passed a hand in front of Laura's eyes—an activity that normally would've met with some sort of response, but this time went seemingly unnoticed.

"Give her a minute, she'll come back," John replied, watching in case she slipped too far away. _Forerunner memories, gotta be,_ he thought—it was the only thing that could make her go elsewhere like that.

"Myrnia," Laura whispered finally, then shot out of her seat as if her shorts had caught fire. She even scrambled across the table to get to the ship's intercom—everyone in the room was forced to hold back a chuckle as she tumbled off the table, landed in a tangle on the deck, and scrambled up to punch the button on the intercom.

"Captain, keep your distance from those ships. Don't let them get close, don't let them send boarding craft, don't let them so much as _breathe_ in your direction! The minute you do, we're fucked!"

"Laura, what—" She didn't let Fred finish before she cut in.

"Stronghold was a Forerunner science lab, they were researching biological materials there. It was also one of the first worlds to fall in the Forerunner Empire." Glancing meaningfully at John and Dr. Halsey, she continued, "One of the first worlds to fall to the Flood."

"Then those ships…" Dr. Halsey began, her face paling.

"Are loaded with Flood forms," Laura finished. "Those damn Brutes probably got there first, went looting for old Forerunner tech, and let the Flood loose. And if they've infected the ships, then it's a fairly safe bet they're gonna be all over Stronghold. If we want to live we're gonna hightail it in the other direction."

"We can't, Laura," John replied quietly. "ONI had sent a team there already, the only reason we're here is because they lost contact with them."

"Why would ONI send a team…" Laura stopped abruptly and slammed her fist on the table; there was an audible groan as the metal dented significantly. "Damn Ackerson! No better than the Covenant, trying to steal anything that's not nailed down. And now he's put good men in danger for no damn reason!" She stopped and raked a hand through her dark hair, forcing herself into a state of calm. "Guess there's nothing for it—I'll have to go."

"You're not going anywhere—" Fred began.

"I'm the only one who can!" Her voice took on a harsh edge, the kind that usually warned that her temper was rising, and dark eyes burned into everyone in the room. "No one else knows that place as well as I do, trust me. And I'm going alone—no sense anyone else dying needlessly. I'm expendable, you're not."


	12. Chapter 12: Inside Stronghold, Version 1

Yay for break uploads! Once again I am doing this at work, simply because dial-up sucks! This is the original draft of the Stronghold exploration, which got scrapped for obvious reasons. Dare you to spot the differences! :D Flames will be used on the idiot slacker manning my post right now.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 12: Inside Stronghold, The Original Draft**

Laura walked with a deceptive confidence, her booted feet making much less noise than the Spartans' armored soles—while she had to admit they were stealthy enough, she'd learned over time just how to apply pressure as she walked, and had had enough practice that she could walk over crackling brush with barely a sound. Her conscious mind warred with the subconscious memories, but for now she was in control as she surveyed the area. There were blood smears everywhere, a few torn and mangled bodies—mostly Brutes, but a few Jackals and Grunts as well—spiker rounds embedded everywhere and scoring on the walls.

"Plasma burns," she muttered to the others. "Looks like the Covenant put up one hell of a fight." Amazingly, that and a few green pus-smears were the only indication of the Flood being here: there were no spores floating around, and no one came to greet them. _Something's really screwy here_, she thought, her grip tightening on the battle rifle.

"Not surprising," John replied, watching her with concern; he knew it might only be a matter of time before she lost control. The many memories in her head were trouble in the best if circumstances, but when she was surrounded by Forerunner technologies and artifacts, it could easily drive her mad.

"So what exactly are we looking for, Blade?" Fred asked from the rear; Laura didn't even bother to correct him, just kept looking around.

"I don't know…yet. Just keep your eyes open and your rifle cocked." She hefted her own rifle, wishing for her knives, a pair of plasma swords, or even the blades her brother had given her for her birthday._ Granted, they'd be useless for the most part, but I'd still feel better if I had them_.

A faint whine filled the air, and Laura stopped to listen: it sounded like it was coming closer. _Sentinels_, she thought, then wondered how she knew the sound. _I better hope they'll leave us be_.

"Lower your weapons," she whispered when she saw an oblong metal object heading their way. Not even looking to see if the others had listened, she stepped forward. As she'd hoped, the Sentinels targeted her.

"**Protocol override Z-10105. Target only Flood forms, protect non-Flood sentients.**" The words came to her mind as easily as breathing, but the Sentinels responded and formed a protective, floating circle around the Spartans.

"Let's keep moving; the Sentinels aren't going to bother us. The sooner we find the archives in here the better."

"Archives?" Kelly asked from the rear. "You never mentioned any archives."

"I just remembered they were there, like I just remembered the override commands for the Sentinels." Her reply was sharp, but Laura wasn't about to apologize.

"Do you remember what happened to this place?" John asked. _Bless him, at least _one_ of them understands this._

"No, I never….Alaya never knew what had happened here." She noticed John wince as he caught the slip of the tongue—okay, she couldn't _see_ him wince through the helmet, but she noticed a slight tensing that indicated he was uneasy—not that she blamed him. "She never knew how it fell, just that it did. I'll bet we find some records in the archives; if nothing else it's a good place to start looking."

The group reached an open archway, or at least as open as the force fields allowed it to be. Hovering just in front of the archway was an older woman with graying hair and a sad expression. The hologram was disconcertingly real, and Laura couldn't help the cry that forced itself from her throat.

"Myrnia…" she whispered, a few tears trickling silently down her cheeks. The hologram must have heard her, since it turned to study her more closely. A voice recording played as the holographic woman spoke.

"**It is rare for love and war to mate.**" An old joke between herself and…who? The memory floated past, both clear and cloudy.

"**But when they do, their child is great**." The figure nodded and blinked off, followed by the force field's deactivation. Laura moved forward, then stopped.

"I have to go on alone."

"No!" The voice was John's, and for the first time in his life he was openly and emotionally defying his orders: Laura raised one eyebrow in her characteristic show of surprise and sarcasm.

"Questioning orders, Chief? Or just antsy about the fact that I'm gonna get my ass beat while you're out here twiddling your thumbs? In either case, my decision still stands—I go on alone. End of story."

"Not even a Spartan could survive in there alone, you know that. Going in there alone is complete suicide—"

"Like you did on Halo and Delta Halo? How is this any different? No one here knows this place better than me, and we don't know what's behind that barrier. I'm best equipped to handle anything back there, and I'm the least valuable member of this team, you know that. So why in hell are you even debating this now?"

"You know why," he replied, hands moving to his helmet. There was an audible hiss as the seals were disengaged, and John practically yanked the helmet aside. Laura could see the anger, and the fear, plainly visible in his eyes, eyes that were usually expressionless—it was like looking at another person entirely. _He's probably being affected by this place too, only not nearly as much as I am…if Corin comes to the forefront…I can't let that happen._

"Chief, you're losing it. Get that damn helmet back on and wait here. This isn't doing anyone any good."

"She's right," Fred broke in from somewhere in the shadows. "We all knew the risks, and she's the best one equipped to handle anything beyond that doorway. That hologram was meant for her, not any of us."

"She's not going alone, she'll die back there if she does!" Behind John's back, where he couldn't see, Laura made a series of gestures. _Subdue on my mark_, Fred translated mentally. Quicker than even John could anticipate, she pulled him around and kissed him soundly; while he was preoccupied she flicked her index finger, and Fred brought his rifle butt down on the Chief's skull. John slumped forward, and Laura caught him and gently lowered him to the ground.

"Don't blame him: this place can wreak havoc on a person's mental state. He'd've been just fine except for the memories he's gotten stuck with, Corin's memories." She shook her head sadly, then looked Fred square in the eyes; it was a tad unsettling the way her eyes burned through the visor.

"Take care of him for me, and if I don't…if I don't make it back, haul his ass out of here kicking and screaming if you have to."

"Will do. Good luck, Blade." Laura nodded once, shouldered her rifle, and walked through the doorway.


	13. Chapter 13: Laura's Ghosts

Welcome back to another new chapter! I realize I didn't do a whole lot in regards to how Laura might have felt after the war (apart from my oneshot "Hello"), so this touches on it a little. I didn't get it finished in time for the story though-shame on me. :( Happy reading-flames will be used on my younger brother.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 13: Laura's Ghosts**

Arisaya and Arnyris happened to be exploring the wooded areas around Camp Hayes—Laura had told them of Silver Pond, and they wanted to see it for themselves—when they stumbled on a large expanse of cleared land. It looked like there had once been a base here, but no longer. All they could see were the twisted and charred remains of buildings, scorched land, and a few weeds growing up in between the burned hulks.

"**This place has been abandoned for a long time,**" Arnyris murmured to his companion. Arisaya nodded in agreement.

"**What do you think happened here? Was this an attack?**" she asked quietly.

"**There is no other reason for what we see. I am surprised Laura never mentioned this—she would have said something if there were another base here, would she not?**"

"**Perhaps, unless there were bad memories of this place**," Arisaya answered. Spotting a glint nearby, she moved forward to examine what appeared to be the twisted remains of a sign, similar to the one above the main gate to Camp Hayes.

…_SC RE…VE …SE C…MP HA…S_, the worn and blackened remains of the sign proclaimed.

"**UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes,**" Arisaya whispered, gazing out at the blackened ruins before her.

"**But…if we have just left Camp Hayes…**" Arnyris began.

"**She told us of the war, remember? It makes sense that they would rebuild it somewhere else,**" she reminded him. Both of the young Forerunners stared out at the remains of the old camp, and saw a single figure moving in the ruins. As one, the two moved forwards, passing by dead buildings and charred vehicles.

Before they got very far, Arisaya felt uneasy, as though there were ghosts surrounding them. She was unsurprised, though—considering that this place was once a battlefield in all likelihood, it stood to reason that there would be ghosts nearby, or at least a similar, haunting sense of death.

"**This place…it feels like death,**" she whispered. There was something about this ruined base that made her not want to talk loudly.

"**I feel it as well,**" Arnyris replied, also whispering. "**What happened here? And why is it still here now, rather than being torn down?**"

Soft noises echoed ahead of them: the sounds of a woman sobbing. Arisaya halted in amazement, wondering why anyone would come here willingly. Arnyris glanced at her, then motioned ahead of them with his hand, a clear sign that he had also heard the sounds. The two moved forward, taking cover behind the charred remains of a Warthog scout vehicle, and looked at the figure in the center of the ruined base.

The last person they'd expected to see here was curled up in a ball on the blackened ground, her tears joining the black earth as she cried softly. She was clad all in black: black shirt, black leggings, black boots, and her hair was unbound and covered her face. There were no weapons nearby, and it seemed she had no idea she was being watched; considering that she usually knew when she was being stalked, this was unnerving. Either she didn't know she was being watched, or she just didn't care. Laura simply lay there, a black heap on scorched earth, sobbing and crying out names they didn't recognize. The only words they could make out were, "I'm sorry," repeated over and over.

"She comes here a lot, when the grief gets to be too much for her," a harsh, iron-like voice whispered in their ear; Arisaya and Arnyris turned quickly to see the Master Chief next to them. He had approached with complete stealth, and was now regarding Laura with concerned eyes.

"We try to keep an eye out for days like today, and follow her when she comes here, just in case," he continued. "We need to be sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

"Why?" Arnyris asked, and Arisaya heard two questions in that single word. _Why does she come here? What happened to this place?_

"This was the original Camp Hayes, and her home for nearly thirty years," John replied. "You know about the war?"

"This place…" Arnyris murmured. "This place was attacked?"

"Somehow she found out they would be coming, and tried to save as many as she could," he nodded. "She had commandeered an underground bunker and managed to get most of the town underground and out of harm's way, but there wasn't enough time to save them all." He shook his head sadly, and Arisaya noticed a single tear forming—the closest she would ever get to seeing strong emotion from him.

"She had just given birth to my…to our children, only a few days before the attack began. Somehow she knew there wouldn't be enough time, even with everyone taking almost nothing with them, and in spite of her own weakened state she went out alone to buy more time, to save as many as she could."

"Then she was a hero," Arisaya murmured.

"There's more," John whispered, never taking his eyes off his sobbing lover. "She almost died trying to hold off the Covenant, and there were already several dead by the time she made it out there. And for about three months people gave her the cold shoulder, as if she were to blame for surviving when their loved ones didn't. Not that they needed to—she blames herself for not being quick enough."

"She should not blame herself for this," Arnyris began.

"But she does," Arisaya interrupted. "Survivor's guilt, remember from the histories? Great generals and heroes slew themselves simply because they lived while those who served with them died on the battlefield."

"And Laura still hasn't forgiven herself for surviving," John finished, watching the sad figure in the dirt.


	14. Chapter 14: Graveyard

And now is a time for celebration-we have high-speed internet now! Which means I no longer have to wait until I go to work to update during my break-and no more dial-up! Ok, now that I've gotten that out of my system, here is the 2nd-to-last chapter of the Declassifieds, another take on how Laura might deal with her memories of the war and other things. Flames will be used to toast the idiots in drive-thru who don't know how to read menus.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 14: Graveyard**

There were very few people at Holy Cross at this hour, most were home for the night or getting ready to leave for work. Only one lone figure could be seen, a woman with dark hair bronzed by the setting sun. A few stray wisps curled around her face as she regarded the gravestones in front of her. _Gedeon, Albert A. and Helen F._ stared back at her from the granite, and nearby a larger marble monument proclaimed _Morisson, Peter J. and Phillip J._ A few tears trickled down a pale face, a face lined with grief, age, and secrets.

Laura sat in the grass in front of her grandmother's grave—she'd been closest to her grandmother, even if her older brother was the favorite (but she didn't mind). During the war it had been here that she'd come when things at the base were too much for her to handle; there was a sense of peace here among the dearly departed that she took comfort in. Taking a deep breath, she started talking, believing that her family was listening.

"A lot's changed since you left, some better, some worse. Daddy, Phil, the war's over—we won, but it was a near thing. They found Earth, but I don't think they were expecting to find us here. They were looking for something else, some ancient technology, and just happened to run into it in New Mombasa, over in Africa." Laura chuckled quietly. "As if you didn't know—you were always better at geography than I was. At any rate, John and the Marines did their best to send 'em packing, and I tried…I tried to protect the base, Mom, the little ones…" Her voice cracked; even now those memories were too much for her.

"I failed, Daddy. I couldn't save everyone, no matter how hard I tried. And the Marines failed in Mombasa, and John…John nearly died. And the monsters…there was more than the Covenant attacking.

"I know you don't know about the Flood, and there are no words out there to even describe them. The darkest, sickest, most twisted nightmare imaginable from the most evil person's mind couldn't even come close. They don't kill you, not outright—they eat you and mutate you, like some perverted parasite. These things attacked right after the Covenant opened up some kind of portal, and John and the others followed them through…" Laura stopped and shook her head, one hand raking through her dark hair. "I'm not making much sense, am I? It still doesn't make much sense to me, no matter how much time I spend hacking and trying to piece everything together.

"Oh, yeah, I'm a mom now—twins, just like the Stick. And let me tell you, those two make Alex and Katrina look well-behaved. Mom keeps joking that they get it from me. John's the father, of course; not like anyone else would be interested anyway. But that's not the only reason I'm here right now, there's more that happened after Earth was attacked.

"We found the other Spartans, and the last surviving Forerunners, thanks to my latent memories from my past life. Then things got hairy: the memories, they…they started taking over. I started forgetting I was me, and started thinking that I was Alaya. It got pretty bad, I felt like I was _living_ her life inside my head, and the effects bordered on insanity. Finally we figured out that the only way to get her out of my head was to go to this planet and figure out what happened there—and I nearly died.

"I realize this all sounds really simple, but I'm only giving you the cut-and-dried version of what happened. The reality was…a lot more difficult." Laura took a deep breath, trying to keep herself from crying. "It's damn near impossible to describe the monsters I faced, and the feelings that weren't mine. And you know what? I'm not sure I even want to try. Mom says I should, that I need to get it off my chest, but how can I explain it to someone who can't understand? Even John can't understand it, and he was there! He saw what was going on, saw how it affected me, but he still doesn't understand what it felt like!" The tears came pouring out now, in spite of her best efforts.

"I don't know what to do anymore," she sobbed, her head resting on the cool granite headstone. "I feel so much guilt, so much pain, and I'm more lost than I've ever been! What am I supposed to do, put it all behind me and move on? It's not like I can erase an entire decade of experiences and memories, I have to live with it for the rest of my life! What should I do?"

Her head stayed on the granite, tears falling freely to darken the red stone as the sun went down. She continued to cry, expecting no answer from anyone, simply getting everything out in a way she couldn't normally do. On base she had to keep the mask on, not show any of the grief inside, not show anyone her confusion; the minute she did she put herself at risk. Here, though, she was expected to grieve, and here she could cry all she wanted. And cry she did, everything pouring out all at once. Before she realized it her tears were stopping, and she felt as though a huge weight was off her chest. A light breeze stirred up, brushing the stray hairs back from her face. _Cry as much as you need to, Princess, we're here for you_, it seemed to say. It felt like her dad was actually listening—and she imagined Nana and Phil were too.

Lifting her head, Laura wiped her eyes and looked around. It was getting dark, and she knew her family would be getting worried. _I needed this though, I feel so much better now_. A faint smile appeared as she looked at the three headstones: her grandparents, her father, and her brother.

"Thank you, thank you for…for listening, for being there. For everything. I miss you all so much." Sniffling and wiping away one last tear, Laura turned and walked away, a much happier person than she was when she arrived.


	15. Chapter 15: The EndOr Is It?

Last chapter! A someone darker ending-left out for obvious reasons. Wrote this when I was in a particularly grim mood and reflecting on things most people don't think about. Remember-not everything is always as cheery as it seems: but there is always hope.

Thank you all for reading about Blade, SPARTAN-000, and for all the positive reviews you've given her. It's been a good run, and here's hoping for another. If anyone wants to borrow her feel free, just ask first. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**Chapter 15: The End...Or Is It?**

She was alone, there was no denying that fact. John had abandoned her again, and her mother was letting her spend less time with her children. _It's like they don't trust me, after I had Alaya in my head. Do they even realize I wasn't responsible?_ Though she had to admit, some of her actions were her own doing…like her attempted suicide. _Which is the reason for my current problem._

The bottle of pills sat innocently on the table, untouched, unopened. Her mother had delivered them, as she had for the past several months, along with a care package of chocolate and other treats she no longer enjoyed. And, as she had for the past several months, she hid the little bottle away in a locked desk drawer, unopened. _I refuse to die this way, slowly, eaten away by drugs. I know Mom means well, but she really should know better._ She disliked the thought of relying on pills, however necessary they were. And she liked the thought of anti-depressants even less. In her eyes, they were one of those things that killed you bit by bit while pretending to help.

Sinking down on the bed, she sighed heavily. _What's the use? They'll always suspect me of being crazy, no matter how much I try to prove them otherwise. Why bother?_ She recognized the dark, suicidal thoughts, but didn't care enough to try and counter them—they were more true now than they had been before. And really, when she stopped to think about it, she had nothing left to live for. John had ditched her in favor of his comrades and his duty. Her mother had taken away her children. The Covenant POWs she'd reeducated no longer needed her. The war was long over. The UNSC never really wanted her, not really—the many assassination attempts were proof of that. Her only real friends had been keeping their distance, always making excuses when she asked why they never came by anymore. _Really, what do I have left? Nothing._

Her knives were lying nearby—she always kept them close nowadays. Why, though, she wasn't sure. Did she think that someone was going to assassinate her? Or did she simply want them nearby in case she actually decided to commit suicide? _Never thought I'd take the easy way out, but then again things were never this bad. Time I made an end to it._ Pulling the knives closer to her, she unsheathed them slowly, regarding the dulled titanium. What was she feeling? Despair, yes, but there was something else there. Was it resignation, sorrow, finality? _Maybe a mixture of things. In the end, does it really matter?_ Crossing the blades over her wrists, she only hesitated for an instant before pulling; one quick slash, the razor-sharp edges completely painless, and she watched her blood gushing out. The end came quickly, more quickly than she'd guessed; her vision faded, black edged with crimson and gray. Dimly she heard doors crashing open, calls for help, cries of dismay, pleas for her to come back. Someone grabbed her wrists, tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. It was too late for them to save her, she knew it was the end…and she felt peaceful, more than she had in a long time. _Goodbye_.

**April 15, 2010**

**Ypsilanti, Michigan Apartment Complex**

0232 hours

The woman woke with a start, shaking from the nightmare she'd just had. Tears poured down her face as tangled brown curls stuck to her cheeks. _Heaven help me, it was too damn real!_ Still trembling, she tried to calm herself down.

"Hey, you okay?" A large, warm hand touched her back as the husky, sleep-laden voice reached her ears. Elizabeth Masters turned her head to meet her boyfriend's worried green eyes. Dan Howard sat up and pulled her into a hug, gently wiping away her tears.

"Just…just a nightmare," Elizabeth stammered, her voice shaky. "I didn't…didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine, Liz. I can always sleep again tomorrow." Dan held her, stroking her hair; it was something he did when she was stressed, and nine times out of ten it worked. Sure enough, Elizabeth felt herself relaxing gradually.

"What was it?" _You would bring that up, and ruin the moment. Bastard._ She didn't really mean it, but still…

"You sure you wanna know?" When Dan nodded, she sighed and continued, "I slit my wrists." _Okay, it wasn't _exactly_ me, but even so…_

Dan winced; he knew enough about her to realize this was serious. "Any reason why you suddenly went suicidal?"

"No clue." She sighed, raking a hand through her tangled hair. "I've had a pretty rough couple of weeks, but no reason to go suicidal. Maybe it's a warning?"

"Does it matter?" Elizabeth had very little warning before she was pulled into a tight hug. Dan held on tightly, kissing her head as he whispered, "I won't let anything happen."

"I know." They stayed that way for a while before eventually laying back down, Dan still holding her. _I'm not going anywhere,_ Elizabeth thought as sleep returned. _That dream can kiss my ass—if Dan even leaves any of it left kicking._ Smiling, she snuggled closer to her boyfriend and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
